


Endymion Curse

by maaldas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Curses, F/M, Hell, Hellhounds, M/M, Rating: NC17, Sex Magic, Somnophilia, Soul Bond, Soul branding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaldas/pseuds/maaldas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To sum it all up, there is always a dark aspect in every fairy tale including the Sleeping Beauty lore.</p><p>At the end of Mystery Spot, the Trickster leaves a hint to Sam about souls. This little hint has managed to change Sam's course of action and steer the research in his mission of 'Saving Dean' to a different direction. Sam threads into a dangerous path that leads him to dabble in blood spells, to curse his brother, rape him and send him to hell.</p><p>Following the event that happens in the show up to ‘No Rest For The Wicked’ but AU from there. Introducing blond underage cherub, soul binding spell, main character under a curse and demon Ruby in different meat suits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by jonjokeat
> 
> Art by reapertownusa

  


 

**Endymion Curse, Prologue**

  
  
  
_Then,_

It was now or never. Sam knew he did not have much time if he wanted to save his brother. Ruby had clearly shown her true face by telling Sam all that bullshit about saving Dean's soul then bailing out in the last hours. She had clearly made up that excuse about not having enough time to train him. Sam guessed the cherub was right after all and cherubimcould not lie.

Dean saw the hellhounds, two of them, snarling and growling at him and that spurred them on to make a dash through the house ending up in a drawing room. Dean had run ahead with Ruby close at his heels and Sam at the rear. Just as Dean opened the door to the drawing room Sam reached out and grabbed Ruby's collar and shoved her down. He cleared the door, slammed it closed and held it while Dean put down the goofer dust. The hounds pounded on the door but could not get in.

"Dude…" Dean looked at him with astonishment clear in his eyes.

"What?"

"Well, I’d say it's about time you ditched that bitch but I got to ask, why now?"

"You said it yourself, Dean, we never should have trusted a demon. Demons lie," said Sam with a serious face. "Here, hold this!"

After giving Dean Ruby's knife, Sam started to set up the room. He shoved the table and chairs into the corner before pulling out a leather pouch from the inside pocket of his jacket while Dean stood guard near the door. He could hear the hounds growling on the other side, trying to break the door down to get inside. 

"Sam, what are you doing? Are you gonna put me in a circle of goofer dust? You know that's not gonna hold them for long," said Dean over his shoulder, looking at Sam wearily.

Sam was in the middle of pouring a white shiny powder from the leather pouch onto the floor making a wide circle when he heard Dean step closer to him. 

Sam looked up at him and noticed his brother's familiar questioning frown and said, "It’s not goofer dust."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"It's salt and pearl," Sam continued as if Dean had never interrupted him.

"Salt and …"  Dean went blank and his head tilted in confusion. "Salt and pearl? What the hell is that for?"

Instead of answering Dean’s question, Sam just completed his circle.

"Sam, what ritual are you doing?" Dean asked again. His tone was hard and demanding. Sam could imagine that Dean was gritting his teeth but he still did not answer him. He continued pouring the pearly salt on the floor mumbling the spell under his breath. It had to be done perfectly and Sam only had one chance before the hellhounds broke in. He knew the goofer dust wouldn’t last.

"Sam, I told you nothing can break me out of my deal and if I do, you'll be dead! That's part of the deal."

"You'll be dead soon anyway. You have no say in this whatsoever,” said Sam as he put away the empty pouch and took out his pocket knife. "Dean, get in the circle!"

Dean hesitated for a moment, eyeing the pearly white circle with distrust, "not unless you tell me what ritual is this."

"We don't have time, Dean. The hounds are behind you. Get. In. Now!"

Sam's face was hard and his jaw was squared stubbornly. Dean looked at the rattling door behind him for a second and when he looked back at Sam he saw that his brother has the knife pressed up against his neck.

"Whoa whoa, Sam!"

"You are not leaving me, Dean. Get in the circle now or I swear I'll slit my own throat and follow you to hell," Sam threatened as blood slowly trickled down his throat where the blade cut into his skin.

"Alright! Alright! I'm getting in."

Dean lifted up both hands to placate Sam and stepped inside the circle carefully. Sam followed him a second later then he put the knife to his left palm and sliced his skin open. He dripped his blood onto the pearl and salt powder making another circle while the spell poured readily from his lips. Smoke rose up from where his blood met the powder. When he’d finished, the powder got shinier and emitted eerie vapors that filled the air inside the circle with white fog. Sam ended his spell by touching Dean's throat with his bloody palm. Then, he took two steps back within the circle.

The door finally broke and Ruby strolled in.

"Hello Sam," greeted the demon, smiling at him as her eyes rolled white. "That wasn't nice what you did back there. You think your little trick can hold me back?"

"Took you long enough," Sam said, turning away from his brother to face her. Once he stood face to face with the demon, Sam knew there was something different about her. "You're not Ruby."

"Oh, don't worry about her. She's back in the gutter where she belongs and I’m here now," said the demon with a rough voice. It was different to the voice that Ruby used, deeper and huskier. "Time to get down to business."

"Not after I’m done with my business," said Sam confidently, standing tall in front of Dean with his head held high. This was the demon that held the contract of Dean’s deal. This was Lilith.

Lilith chanced a look behind Sam and her eyes turned round in surprise. A pleased smirk slowly formed on her lips. "Getting the job done for me, I see?"

"What’s happening to me? ... Sam?" called out Dean in panic which made Sam turn around back to look at him.

There were two Deans stood in front of Sam right now. The panicking one was standing in the middle of the circle looking down at his now transparent form in confusion and a little bit of fear. He then looked at Sam questioningly while Lilith was laughing outside the circle. His solid form just stood there quietly looking ahead like a statue.

"You follow me," whispered Sam in elation and awe. "It's your soul Dean. Don't worry, she can't get you while you're in the circle. It's a pure magic even Demons as powerful as her can't do anything about as long as stands."

"Oh, don't bet on that, stupid. You don't know who I am," Lilith growled behind Sam, her hounds barking loudly and clawing the floor outside the circle, leaving scratch marks on the wooden floor.

Lilith lifted up her palm towards them but nothing happened.  She glared at Sam furiously before walking around the circle scowling at the pearly white powder looking for a crack but the spell held strong.

Sam realized that she would not be able to get to them until he finished the spell. He knew he could not botch Dean's deal. Dean had to go to hell to pay his due but that did not mean he had to be there forever. Dean would only see hell for a second if Sam could help it and Sam would surely follow his brother down there if he could not pull him back up. That was why he needed this spell. Sam needed to mark his brother's soul and bind him to his own soul so that when he activated the second part of the ritual, the spell would be able to find Dean's soul and pull him back to Sam then Sam would put his soul back into his body. Well, that was the plan anyway. The success of this plan was still to be proven.

Sam wasted no time and he approached his Dean's body, ignoring the way Dean's soul was looking on his every move, curious as to what he was up to now. The spell could hold the demon for as long as Sam kept the circle intact and only the caster could disrupt the circle, yet Sam had no intention of staying in that house forever. He lifted his right hand to Dean's cheek. He rubbed it lovingly with sad and soulful eyes for a moment before he closed the gap between them and touched his lips to Dean's.  
  
  
  


"Oh, Sam, you kinky bastard! If I’d known you’d got the hots for your brother I’d have done things differently," said Lilith, taunting him with a lopsided smirk and a gleam in her eyes.

Sam ignored her. His sole attention was on his brother. Dean's body didn’t react to his touch. He never even blinked when Sam kissed him but Sam heard an intake of breath from behind him and he knew Dean's soul had felt something. Sam knew the spell had put its mark on Dean’s soul because he felt the faint pull from behind him. He turned his head around to look into his soul from over his shoulder. It seemed to be staring back at him. It looked taken aback at Sam's actions. Sam guessed that Dean had never thought he’d kiss him like that.

Dean looked at him in wonder while Sam only sent watery smile back at him. There was something in Dean’s eyes as if he was considering some action but Sam had no time to decipher the look. This situation was already becoming more surreal with every second that passed. Sam’s eyes were getting misty with unshed tears; eyes that held a thousand words that he wished to say but could not get passed his throat.

There was a smell of something burning in the air around them. The pearly salt powder was burning up signaling the end of the spell. Dean's body swayed dangerously but Sam caught him in his arms the moment he went limp. Dean's soul hovered behind him while Sam lowered his body to the floor.

"Is my body ok?"

"You're alright Dean, it's just the spell."

"Don't mean to burst your bubble Sam, but your spell is weakening," Lilith said, grinning at him. "You're coming home with my boys, Dean."

It was not only her who got excited; the hounds were growling anew. Dean’s eyes followed them as they were circling outside the burning powder. Sam too heard the clicking of their nails on the floor.

"Go ahead, I just need his body intact," said Sam dispassionately, still kneeling on the floor beside Dean's body.

"What a nice brother you are! See, Dean? You don't have to worry. You can have fun in hell while I have fun with Sam. I am going to enjoy ripping his throat out and feeding his blood to my hounds. I'll send him to you when I am done."

"Quit yapping you bitch! Just take me and leave my brother alone," shouted Dean enraged.

"Oh, I will take both of you."

"And then what? Take over the world and become queen bitch?"

"You're cute. I'll let you be my bitch after hell breaks you. Your job will be only to please me," Lilith purred as she looked at Dean like he was her new toy. Sam shivered. He did not want to imagine what Lilith would do in hell when she got her hands on Dean. It was too late now; the spell had latched onto Dean. Sam could only hope he was fast enough to get Dean out of there.  

Dean sneered at her and stood between the demon and Sam in a futile effort to protect him, Sam thought. Dean glanced worriedly at the rapidly blackening powder around them before he caught Sam's eyes.

"I'll get you back. I promise," Sam vowed to his brother.

"Sammy…" Dean could only look at him with a sad smile like he did not really believe it but wanted to indulge his little brother one last time. Sam could see love reflected in his teary eyes. It felt like the strongest emotion he showed Sam in all of their lives. There were so many things to say, but too little time.

Sam’s skill had been proven so far. The spell had worked and Dean hadn’t dropped dead like a sack of rotten meat. He’d been right. As long as Dean went to hell, the deal would be upheld. There was nothing stated in the contract about what happened after he went to hell. Sam had found a loophole.

Lilith looked at the blackening powder on the floor, grinning. She wiped it away with her power, stripping them off its protection. "Gotcha!"

White light came from Lilith's outstretched hand. A powerful force hit Sam full blast and he could only crouch down protecting his Dean's body from it. He thought he was a goner and that Lilith had finally got what she had come for, killing him and taking Dean's soul to hell but when he opened his eyes, he found himself still laying on top of Dean, no worse for wear and still breathing. Yet, he knew that the hounds had torn Dean's soul apart leaving only Sam and a soulless body lying prone on the hard cold floor. 

Lilith looked down at her hands in shock while Sam patted down his body. Sam then checked Dean's body for a pulse and breathed out in relief when he found it steady. He looked at Lilith only to see the dumbfounded expression on her face when she realized that her power had failed to kill him. Sam quickly scanned the floor for Ruby's knife and found it near Dean's feet.

"What's a matter bitch? Can't get it up?" taunted Sam as he snatched the knife off the floor and stepped closer to her, pleased to see fear forming in her eyes.

"Back!" Lilith thrust out her hand at Sam's chest with no effect. "Get Back!"

"I don't think so."

Sam lifted up the knife high in the air to stab her but the demon bolted in a cloud of black smoke out of its host, up to the ceiling and out through a vent. Sam gritted his teeth, seething but then he remembered that he had more important things to do. He hastily gathered his brother in his arms and hauled him up from the floor. He met Bobby outside the house who said that the rest of the demons bolted as soon as the white light that had shone from inside the house snuffed out a couple of minutes ago. He bundled his brother inside the impala and drove away as fast as he could with Bobby’s truck behind.  
  
  


  


 


	2. First Level: Prepare the Brewing Ingredients

**First Level: Prepare the Brewing Ingredients.**

  
  
_Two years later,_

Sam woke up beside his ever sleeping brother. He rolled over onto his left and stared quietly for over half an hour at the still form beside him. Then, he slowly rose up on his left elbow to hover over his Dean's body, arm around his chest.

"Good morning, Dean."

He gave his brother a kiss on his right cheek and a chaste one on his lips and waited for a few moments whilst his eyes roamed over his big brother's delicate feature. When nothing happened he let out a resigned sigh and climbed out of bed. He supposed it did not work like in the stories. The princess awoken from a deep sleep by only a kiss. Why couldn’t Dean? Granted, Dean was no princess but the spell had worked. Sam just didn’t know where he’d gone wrong. He sealed it with a kiss; shouldn't he have been able to end it with one too?

Sam continued with his daily routine of morning run through the woods, showering, making coffee and breakfast. He went back into the room he shared with Dean to check on him. It was time to change the bed sheets and to give Dean his daily massage. It was not really necessary actually, but Sam loved doing it. The doctor had told him to treat Dean just like a sleeping person, but without awareness. It was odd to see him sleeping for this long without eating but then again there was magic at work here, ancient and very powerful magic, so he thought he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, demons existed as well as angels.

“Alright, Dean, I’m gonna change the bed so I’ll need you to move …” Sam lifted Dean’s body on one side, rubbing his back for thirty seconds before pulling the sheet from under him. He stripped the rest of the bedding before taking it to the kitchen to put the wash on. He returned with fresh linen and made the bed, turning Dean’s body onto his other side. He flopped on the bed beside Dean’s back and laid his head on his brother’s temple, curling his arm around Dean’s waist.

“So, what d’you wanna do today?” asked Sam conversationally. “I already put the laundry in the washing machine, so we could either make some pancakes with syrup or just have scrambled eggs and sausages. Bobby sent provisions the other day, enough to feed an army for a week, or just you for a couple of days. Seriously, dude you need to watch your weight or you’ll get flabby with lying around all day like this.” Sam poked Dean’s stomach, still as hard and flat as usual.

“Hey, d’you wanna take a bath? Are you smelly?” Sam sniffed Dean’s neck and armpits. “Naah, you’re okay. How many days ago did you shave, anyway?” asked Sam as he rubbed Dean’s cheek with the back of his hand. Then he counted his fingers in front of Dean’s face, telling his brother what he wanted to do today. “Let’s start with changing your clothes first, then sponge bath, you love that, don’t you?” he chuckled briefly. “Then, I’ll see what I can do for breakfast today. No complaining! You can cook it yourself if you don’t like what I make. I’ll be right back.” He planted a kiss on Dean’s temple before jumping off the bed, and sauntering back to the kitchen to check on the washing machine.

Sam did this every day, making casual conversation with his brother as if he was awake and could reply him. He figured he needed to do this if only for the sake of his own sanity. Living in seclusion with only a passive person as company could drive a man crazy. It’s been two years, but Dean's condition hadn’t changed. Sam had almost lost hope. The only thing that had prevented him from going off the deep end was the ever present pull of his soul which steadily increased in its intensity every day. It was subtle at first, nothing but a tingle in his chest but it intensified the more Sam touched his brother until he could not ignore it any longer. It had become an unscratched itch, a tug that Sam felt deep in his own soul. Several times in the last six months he’d woken up feeling horny and had unconsciously rubbing himself on Dean.

The first time it had happened he had been mortified and had rolled off the bed hitting the floor hard in his haste to get away from Dean. But when it happened again the next day and next and the next, Sam had no choice but to give in. Usually, he’d just go to the bathroom whenever the urge came on but it was only ever Dean’s image and smell that he thought about.

Theoretically, Sam knew it was the curse; that his soul was calling out to Dean's soul. It was basically how he knew that the curse had worked at all, and that he had succeeded in saving Dean from hellfire. But he was also ashamed about the affect it was having on him; increasing his sexual craving for his brother. Even thinking about it made him want to hide in the deepest hole in the ground. Perhaps it was him who should be in hell instead of Dean.

Sam spent the rest of the day in his living room turned office researching. Usually he would stop at noon for a while to make a meager lunch or forgo it completely to continue researching, occasionally checking up on Dean until the night rolled around and he was half only awake over his work table. When he could no longer stay awake he shuffled down to the bedroom and fell asleep curled up beside Dean. He could not help but entertain the thought that someday Dean would wake up because of his kisses. So he planted a kiss on Dean's lips every night before going to sleep and every morning when he woke up, wishing that his brother would wake up and call him a girl for it. So far it hadn’t happened but it was not for lack of trying.

Tonight, instead of going straight to dreamland, Sam stayed awake. He lay down beside Dean with both hands behind his head and eyes staring up to the grey ceiling. He had started the research on this spell after their second meeting with the Trickster. He was desperate back then, at the end of his rope and would grab at anything, anything at all that gave even a hint of how to save his brother. Sam remembered the trickster's exact words after he’d played Sam for a fool for over six months. After all his energy had burned out and desperation was the only emotion left, Sam could still remember it clearly.

@@@

_Abandoned warehouse, two and half years ago,_

"You think you can save your brother? Save his soul from damnation?" asked the Trickster. "Do you even know what a soul is Sam?"

Sam said nothing. What could he possibly say to the Trickster, anyway? He just wanted his brother back, damn it! He would plead, beg and grovel if it brought him Dean back. He would sell his own soul if needs be because Dean was not the only one who could sell his soul. Dean did not get to be self-sacrificing while Sam lived alone and miserable in this unforgiving world.

"Perhaps you should read up on it, and see what you are dealing with here."

He had latched onto The Trickster’s words so tightly, questioning the truthfulness of the advice that there was no way back from damnation. What did Sam know about the soul? Nothing.  Besides the generic knowledge that Pastor Jim had drilled into them when they were young, he knew nothing. He knew that their souls only had a choice of two destinations when they died, either up to heaven or down to hell, but nothing of its entity, of its purpose, or its essence that made us human.

For the first time in months, Sam had found a new direction for his research. Instead of finding a way to break Dean's deal he studied souls. As he luxuriated in the return of his brother, Sam threw himself wholeheartedly into his study. If he could have, Sam would have spent the whole week after their last meeting with the Trickster hugging Dean in his arms.  Sadly Dean had never been the touchy feely type. Sam took his fill by looking at him instead. He hovered and fussed and never let Dean out of his sight for longer than a few seconds. Of course, it freaked Dean the fuck out but even Dean couldn’t win when Sam bombarded him with his lethal puppy dog eyes and soulful expression.

After the incident of Lilith's jail demolition in her hissy fit, Sam had left his brother moping alone in their motel room. Dean had paid him no mind. Sam even suspected that Dean had been kind of relieved that finally Sam had stopped hovering around him like a lost puppy. Sam rolled his eyes at the thought. If only Dean knew the state he’d been in during the six months that he’d been gone under the Trickster’s spell. But Dean did not know that. Dean hadn’t even lasted a day before he’d crawled off to a crossroads demon to bring Sam back to life. As hard as living without each other was, Dean had never lived without Sam in the same way he’d spent those six miserable months without Dean. Even when Sam was in Stanford, Dean was only a phone call away, not dead.

Sam's study had brought him to binding rituals but the information was vague at best and the book where he’d found the ritual did not go into the details. It just stated that the binding ritual was very dangerous and should only be attempted as a last resort. It involved marking a soul and the few beings that could do that were either high class demons or angels. Sam knew about demons and he suspected that the Crossroads Demon had put a mark on Dean's soul to validate the contract. It was high level stuff and perhaps only demons with the strongest powers could manage it which made him doubt that Ruby could. She was feisty and resourceful, he’d give her that, but in the matter of power Sam was sure that Ruby was just an average demon. The more he delved into this matter, the more he doubted that Ruby could help him. This brought on suspicions about her intentions of working with them. Was Ruby just leading them on by feeding them lies and eating up Sam's desperation? Sam shoved that thought onto the back burner for the time being because he had more important things to think about.

So, demons was definitely a big ‘No'. Which only left angels. Now, Sam had never met an angel before. He had also never heard of anyone who had ever met one. He did not know what an angel looked like let alone how to summon one. Well, Sam thought the situation was close to the last resort right now. He was willing to take the risk as long as he could save Dean and this binding ritual looked like the only one that could help him.

From one of his father's contacts in his journal, Sam had got the address for an old antique book shop in the middle of New York. He had begged Dean to drive him there. His brother had rolled his eyes and made a comment about Sam's geekiness but he had taken him there in the end. For a whole week, Sam had spent all his waking hours confined inside the almost dilapidated building much to Dean's exasperation. His brother had bitched and moaned at him about how bored he was. Sam had just snorted and told him to go to a bar or a striptease club or something. He was very close to finding the ritual.

One of the old, dusty books had mentioned, as if in passing, a ritual for summoning Cupid.  The Romans called him Cupid,god of desire, affection and erotic love, but it had always been suspected that he was one of a kind of lesser angels. It worth a try, Sam had thought. The page had also contained a spell that the book claimed to be out of date and from a highly suspicious resource but it was something. The language was partly Latin and partly Greek and a few runes had also been drawn on the page. Sam was familiar with Latin and from his translation he could not find anything dangerous in the spell. Only a warning that the cupid could not be forced to do something that it did not want to do and should be allowed to come and go as it pleased because they were generally thought to be naive creatures, subject to mood swings.

@@@

A young, blond, naked girl who seemed only about fourteen years old had appeared in front of Sam ten seconds after he’d finished the spell. She’d immediately jumped up at Sam latching on to him tightly with her arms and legs. To say that Sam had been horrified was the understatement of the year. He had started to think he’d chanted the wrong spell but then she’d let go of him and introduced herself as a cherub.

"You're a what?"

"A cherub!" answered the cute naked girl merrily, unabashed at her nakedness. Her face then contorted in a confuse frown. "Didn't you know? You sent for me, remember?"

"You're … a lesser angel?" questioned Sam; still not buying that the whole cherub thing was real.

"Yes! Some called us cupids but you can call me whatever." Again she had answered with an excited jump before playing with her hair and dancing around the abandoned warehouse where Sam had performed his ritual, without a care in the world.

Sam had eyed her with distrust. He’d begun to think that he had summoned a loon instead of an angel. Forget about her nakedness, he’d thought, her demeanor was worrying enough. He’d started to think that she was not right in the head.

"So, … er … you can tell me about souls?" Sam had called out to her and she’d immediately stopped dancing and ran back to him. Sam had taken a couple steps back afraid of another hugging but she’d stood right in front of him instead with an eager expression on her face.

"Oh, no one ever summoned me before. I'm still young, you know. I'm not allowed to do any binding. I can only watch the older and more experienced cherubs do their jobs but I do know about souls. Yes, it's the first thing that we cherubs must learn because to bind people you have to understand about their souls. It would not do to bind an unmatched pair. We only aim for happily ever after. At least that's what they told me, anyway. I know some older cherubs carry special orders from heaven not that I know what they are, mind you, but-"

"I think that’s enough," Sam had said, interrupting her mid sentence. This cherub talked at a mile a minute without taking a breath and it gave Sam a headache just listening to her.

Sam had taken a deep breath as the cherub waited patiently for him, in silence, thankfully.

"So, you know about souls." Sam had lifted his palm up to stop her from blabbering again before continuing, "I need you to tell me about mine and my brother's souls."

The cherub's features had become very bright after hearing Sam's demand. "Oh! So, you wanna know about your soul mate?" asked the cherub excitedly, blue eyes widening. Sam could only answer with a nod. "Wonderful! If only all people are like you, you know. They spend years and decades to find the right one but never ever ask us who it is. Not that they’d actually know how to summon us, you know that right? Imagine the chaos if all of them summoned us at the same time," she’d shivered in dread. "That's why we hid the spell very carefully but some humans are just too smart and resourceful. Just like you!" exclaimed the cherub, and a sudden bright smile had bloomed on her small, pink lips. "And we're actually not allowed to actively help humans but sometimes it hurts to see them suffering with in an unmatched pairing. Our orders are clear; never to be seen and nudge them as little as possible. They say humans must experience the ups and downs of romance and learn from their mistakes and…"

"Just stop! Please…" Sam had shouted at her.

The cherub's eyes had grown wider, if that was even possible. She’d looked at Sam in shock for several seconds before her bottom lip had started to tremble.

"Oh, no, no no… please don't cry!"

Her blue eyes had become watery and she’d already blinked them several times, the corners of her mouth had turned down.

"I'm sorry! Please, please don't cry," Sam had pleaded in panic. "I didn't mean to shout at you … please…"

"Why are you mean to me?" muttered the cherub in a small scared voice. She’d twirled her fingers around her curly blond hair, eyes downcast. "I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to worry about looking for your soul mate."

"I'm sorry," he’d said in a subdued tone but something about what the cherub said had tickled his curiosity. "Wait a minute… You said I don't have to worry about finding a soul mate? … Is it …because I don't have one?"

"No, you silly!" she’d exclaimed as she’d smiled at Sam, her previous trepidation gone. Cherubs did have mood swing, Sam mused. "You've already met yours and forged a bond."

Sam's eyebrows could not have risen any higher. He had forged a bond with his soul mate? Who was the poor girl, he’d wondered. "Uh… was it … was it Jessica?"

The cherub had frowned. "Who's Jessica?"

"Jessica Moore, my girlfriend. Uh… was my girlfriend."

"Oh! She died?" the cherub had gasped loudly, blue eyes went round and sad. After Sam confirmed, she’d shaken her head sadly. "No. If she died then she's not your soul mate because your bond is still intact. Once your soul mate dies you won’t be able to forge a bond with anyone else." Then, she’d continued. "Humans sometimes get it wrong. There's no such thing as a match made in heaven unless we angels make it. In fact we’re the only one who can forge a permanent bond between humans. You may form a bond with another human and they'll become your soul mate but when one of you dies the bond will be shattered. Human’s bond only last on earth. The marriage vow? ‘Till death do us part'? It's true. Only the vow that humans are using nowadays doesn't hold any power other than just symbolic," explained the cherub with a serious nod.

Sam had stared at her in confusion. "Then who…"

"He's here. The only person that you've never parted with ever since you were kids."

"Dean?" Sam's mind had quickly jumped to the only logical answer and, really, he did not need an educated guess for that. Oh, he’d been aware of the parting when he’d left for Standford for four years but he’d left that fact out of consideration. "But… we're brothers. Are you sure you're not making a mistake?"

The cherub had looked pissed. She’d glared at Sam with her hands on her hips. "I don't make mistakes! I can clearly see his mark on your soul. I bet he has your mark as well."

Sam had stood frozen with his mouth agape in front of her, stunned and bewildered but there had been no mistaking the spark of hope that had flared deep in his heart. If he and Dean had already marked each other then, the binding ritual might work. Yes, perhaps there was a way for Sam to save Dean.

"Could you … take a look at Dean's soul? Please?"

"Why? I already told you-"

"Please!" Sam had urged but the cherub had just looked at him dispassionately. Sam had taken a deep breath before explaining, "it's just that … my brother, he’s only got few months left to live and I'm at a loss as to what to do to save him."

"Is he dying?" the cherub had asked looking up at Sam curiously.

"No,… er… well, kinda." The cherub had tilted her head, looking confused. Sam had tried to find the words to explain Dean's predicament but in the end he’d opted for being blunt. "Well, … he's going to hell in a few months." There, he’d said it. "And I need to save his soul. So, could you please tell me how to do that?"

The cherub had looked at Sam quietly for few seconds before saying in a solemn voice, "Your brother had done a really bad thing, hasn’t he?"

Sam had felt sad, guilty and embarrassed all at the same time because he knew the reason Dean had sold his soul was because he had died. He’d also felt anger at his brother for selling himself short like that but the anger had soon been replaced by profound guilt. He, of all people, should have known that Dean had devoted most of his life to taking care of him. It had been a natural reaction for Dean to do that, selling his soul to bring him back. Dean had never known how to care for himself. He only knew how to care for Sam. So, that day after they’d closed the Devil's gate, when they’d talked by the Impala, Sam had vowed to be the one to care for Dean from now on. After all, it was only fair. 

"If his soul is destined for hell then there's nothing more I can do. I'm just a matchmaker. I read souls. Where they go when they die is not my business and I don't think there's anything to do to break a binding contract like that. And I'm sure your bond will break when he goes to hell. Only an angel forged bond could survive that."

"Just … would you please … take a look at Dean's soul? Just tell me what you see… what markings are there… Please…" Sam had begged her in his most sincere voice hoping against hope that the cherub would help him.

The cherub had whined in a high pitch tone before stomping her feet. "Why did I answer your summoning?! I hate sincere pleading!" She’d muttered a few more words under her breath that sounded like gibberish to Sam before she’d disappeared in a blink of an eye making him jump in surprise Five seconds after her departure, as he had looked around the empty and silent warehouse, she’d popped back up behind Sam startling him.

"Wh… y… you're back…"  

"There are two markings on your brother's soul; yours and the demons," reported the cherub. Then her face had crumpled and tears had run down her cheeks.

"What, what is it?!" Sam had asked in alarm.

"It's just so sad. Mortal bonds are very, very rare and so extraordinarily beautiful that we aren't even allowed to tamper with them but …" her cries got louder. Her tiny fists had rubbed her wet eyes as fat tears had continued falling. "It's so sad that the demon's mark has ruined it all."

Sam had shuffled his feet awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what to do to comfort the upset cherub. Not to mention that her woes reminded him of his own pain. So, Sam had had to ask. “Could you please … forge a bond between us? You know, making it permanent so that it won’t break when he goes to hell.”

“Why would you want that? We’re always very careful when binding human’s soul and then only by the order of heaven because people can go crazy. Even if I can, I won’t do it.”

Before Sam had had a chance open his mouth to explain, the cherub had disappeared just as abruptly as she’d come. Sam had waited for almost a minute in that abandoned warehouse before deciding that the cherub must have been too upset to come back. So, he’d packed his bag, cleaned any trace of the ritual from the ground and then driven back to the motel where he ’d left Dean sleeping off his hangover from his previous night’s excursion to a strip club.

Things had been clearer for Sam after his meeting with the cherub that night. It had renewed and refreshed his purpose.  He had been even more determined to find a way to save Dean's soul from hell after finding out about the mark on both their souls. Even ignoring the soul mate thing, just the fact that he and Dean had marked each other's souls had been enlightening and overwhelming at the same time. Sam would certainly rather consider this a blessing than anything else, especially, when he’d need it to save said his big brother from the fiery pit of hell.


	3. Second Level: Let It Shimmer for Two Years

**Second Level: Let It Shimmer for Two Years**

 

  
  
_Two years ago, Bobby’s house, just after Sam had put a curse on Dean,…_

  
"You're cursing your brother?!" Bobby had snapped at the Sam. Sam had just stood there with his eyes downcast. There had been exasperation in Bobby's tone and if the adrenalin hadn’t still been coursing through Sam's system he might have recognized it.

"At least he’s alive, Bobby," Sam had said in a small voice.

"You call that living?!"

"Well, he’s still breathing and if I did it correctly I'll get his soul back."

"Did you?" Bobby had looked at him expectantly although still glowering, making Sam nervous. Bobby had sighed exasperatedly, "Did you do it correctly? When will Dean get his soul back?"

"Um,… the …uh the spell doesn't say when exactly and there was very limited mention of this curse in any of the literature…"

"And?" Bobby had nudged Sam as he ’d trailed off.

"Honestly, I … kind of … need your help with the research," Sam had confessed, sheepishly staring at his shoes.

"Did you find your answer down there?" Bobby reprimanded him sternly before sauntering to his work table grumbling about ‘damn idjits'.

Sam hadn’t dared to look up; he hadn’t even dared to move from his spot feeling deeply chastised. He’d vaguely heard the older man slamming books on his desk. Then going to the basement, presumably to get more books, muttering "sleeping my ass" under his breath as he’d passed Sam on his way down.

Bobby had helped Sam take Dean to the upstairs bedroom. Then, they’d spent few hours arguing about Dean's condition because they were still not sure if Dean was only asleep or if the spell had put his body mechanism on hold. The spell hadn’t gone into details on what to do to care for the sleeping body after the first part of the spell had been performed. The transcript that Sam had got from the professor in New Orleans hadn’t been that elaborate. So the best thing they could do was wait it out and research.

"There's nothing here," Sam had sighed dejectedly as he’d thrown a thick leather bound book onto the coffee table in front of him to join a pile that was already strewn about.. Sam slumped back on the worn couch rubbing his face. "Maybe that's just it, Bobby. Perhaps the spell just put the body on hold until it got its soul back. Otherwise wouldn't the script have mentioned it?"

"Where did you get this script from anyway?" Bobby had asked curiously.

Sam had let out a long sigh before beginning his tale. "Remember when you called Dean about that guy who’d blown his head off in Ohio?" When Bobby had just looked at him glazed Sam had added, "The ghost call case that you sent Dean to check out?"

"Ah, yeah! The Crocotta!"

"I’d been meeting with a professor in New Orleans when you’d called Dean. Granted this professor hadn’t known crap about the demon's deal let alone how to break one but he had a friend from Greece who had sent him a copy of a long lost transcript of … what he thought was an immortality spell. Said his friend had got it from his archeological expedition there with his wife. So…" Sam had trailed off when Bobby got a knowing look on his face. A look that he usually wore when he’d caught up with whatever insanity the boys had got themselves into, which happened at least once every three weeks.

"So, you decided to ring up this friend of the professor and what? He just sent you the copy?"

"Well, he didn’t give me the copy of the original script obviously because the archeologist had managed to translate it. And, uh… he’d actually got in over his head because after he’d managed to translate the rites, he’d … tried the spell himself," said Sam slowly, averting his eyes from Bobby's probing look.

"What a damn fool!" Bobby had commented indifferently.

Sam couldn’t have said it better. In the hunters’ world, caution was the number one rule. You did not go into a monster's lair half cocked and unprepared. Information on what you were up against and how to kill them was very important and every hunter knew not to hunt alone if they felt they were outnumbered; back up was essential. Pride would not pay if you got chewed by a werewolf in the end. The Supernatural spoke their own language. Spells and incantations were the few things that humans could learn to understand and learn they must because the consequences could be severe if they were done incorrectly or inappropriately.

"Well, he thought he’d got all the ingredients and tools down pat but he’d forgotten one very important thing for the spell to work," Sam told Bobby reluctantly. He wasn’t sure what Bobby would think about the fact that Dean and he were basically soul mates.

Bobby had raised his bushy eyebrows. "Well, what was this thing that was so important for the spell to work?"

Sam sighed and slowly revealed, "It’s a soul binding spell, Bobby." 

"A what?"

Sam had chanced a look at Bobby and found that his face did not look angry at all. He didn’t even look slightly annoyed, just perplexed and curious. Perhaps, Bobby was still trying to grasp the connection between the spell's origin and Dean's state recently.

"You heard me," muttered Sam wearily observing Bobby's expression as he worked through the information in his head.

Bobby lifted up the brim of his cap to scratch his rapidly balding head before addressing the issue. "Let me get this straight," started Bobby carefully. "You put a soul binding spell on your brother then cursed him with a sleeping curse and he still went to hell?" When Sam's answer was only silence, Bobby took a very deep breath and tried visibly to calm himself before he snapped and throttled Sam with his bare hands.

Sam shrugged his one shoulder. "It works," said Sam defensively.

"It works? ... Then, how's the archeologist doing right now?" Bobby asked slowly as if talking to a ten year old boy.

"He never woke up. His wife, who performed the spell for him panicked and contacted the professor for help. As far as I know the man died within a month of his wife performing the spell on him…"

"…and you think Dean won't die within a month as well?" asked Bobby without missing a beat.

"No!" exclaimed Sam forcefully almost shouting at Bobby. "Because I know the spell worked for him."

"How d'you know?" Bobby kept pressing him until Sam finally blurted out.

"Because we're soul mates!"

Bobby blinked. Then, he blinked again and again. Sam thought he looked ridiculous.

“At least that's what the cherub said," Sam said in a low voice but in the deafening silence that blanketed the room he was sure that Bobby had heard him clearly.

"What cherub?" asked Bobby warily, unprepared for more craziness.

"The cherub that I summoned three months ago. They're … lesser angels."

"Angels. Now, you believe in angels?"

"What's not to believe? Pastor Jim believed in them," Sam defended himself indignantly.

"Yes, I know, but don't you think that kinda comes with the job description?"

"You believe in demons and evil, Bobby. Why don't you believe in angels as well?"

"Oh, well, when you put it like that…" Bobby shrugged his shoulders clearly dismissing the matter. Sam knew that Bobby would hit the books later to research it when he’d got time. "But, what is this soul mate thing that you talked about, boy?"

Sam let out a tired sigh. "In order for the spell to work, the caster has to be someone that has already forged a bond to the intended recipient. There is a part of the spell that talks about ‘the other half’, I think that is where he got it wrong. I had a feeling there was a miss interpretation in the script, so, I contacted the professor again to ask for the original copy of the spell.

“The original spell said 'adelfi psychi' which means the other half. Thinking that it must refer to his wife, he performed the spell asking her to cast it on him.”

Bobby frowned. "But if the interpretation was correct why wouldn’t it work then?"

"Beats me! The spell calls for the other half or soul mate of the intended recipient of the spell to be the one to perform the spell. The only explanation I could think of is perhaps his wife was not his true soul mate."

"And you think you and Dean are?" challenged Bobby.

Sam reluctantly relayed to Bobby what the cherub had revealed to him months before, about the demon's mark on Dean's soul and the fact that he and Dean had marked each other's soul for a long time. Bobby dropped his pen on the table to scratch his beard for a moment while he sent a calculating look towards Sam. Then, he steepled his fingers before addressing Sam with the most fatherly voice Sam had ever heard him use.

"Listen, Sam. You and your brother _do_ have a tangled up, crazy, twisted and co-dependent relationship with each other and I know it isn’t healthy, but at least it got you this far. Yet, I would never consider you soul mates. What you did was reckless! What if you're wrong? How d'you know that it's even real? D'you actually believe there are people who are destined to be with each other and live and die together?"

"According to the cherub it's very rare but soul mates do make human bonds on earth."

"Meaning?"

"It means if one of the soul mated couple died then their bond would break unless it was forged by an angel. Then…"

"Then what?"

"Angel forged bonds are strong and if one of them died, the other would live a miserable life bordering on craziness until…"

"Until they killed themselves? Yeah, that sounds a lot like a curse to me."

Sam just shrugged because he knew that he would be beyond devastated if Dean had really died. Talk about living a miserable life, Sam would not be living, period. He would just be the shell of the man he’d been. He knew this deep in his heart even disregarding what the cherub had said about them. Even now, he felt like a huge hole had been carved out of him and the pain was horrible. The only thing that anchored him was the constant and distant pull that he’d felt ever since he’d touched his lips to Dean's. Sam wasn’t sure if this was a side effect of the binding spell or not but he certainly hadn’t felt like this before. It was barely there but whenever Sam got too deep into the pool of desolation and grief whenever he thought about his brother dying, whenever the pain had managed to numb everything else, there was this tug in his heart that somehow managed to pull him out of his misery. There was a push that urged him to do something, a compulsion of sorts that seemed to remind him that Dean was waiting.

@@@

They’d spent the next few days hashing out the best way to care for Dean because even though Dean's body had been put to sleep by the spell, he still needed to be taken care of. They’d found it out the hard way. When Sam had gone to check on Dean after dinner he’d noticed a damp patch around the front of his brother's jeans and promptly realized that Dean had urinated. He’d deftly stripped his jeans and proceeded to clean him up as best as he could. He’d done the job as quickly as possible because even though they’d have been living in each other pockets, it was still gross. Then, he’d stopped by the basement to chuck the soiled jeans into the dirty hamper before informing Bobby of the development.

Bobby had been quick to address the matter and had hurriedly made a few calls to some of his contacts. A middle aged doctor had come by the next day to check on Dean.

“Can we trust him?” Sam had whispered to Bobby as they stood by the wall in the guest room, watching the doctor assessing Dean.

“Rufus trusts him. You know how paranoid he is,” Bobby had answered, but their eyes never left the doctor.

“I didn’t ask Rufus. I asked you, Bobby. Do you trust him?” he’d asked again, raising his voice to a hiss.

Bobby had just stared at him exasperated and Sam had pursed his lips stubbornly. He didn’t really know Rufus except from what Dean told him, so it didn’t matter what Rufus said, Sam needed Bobby’s opinion.

“Yes, I trust him. He’s a hunter friendly doctor that has saved many hunters lives including your father’s,” Bobby had answered. “Satisfied?”

Sam had studied Bobby’s eyes and nodded his head after he saw assurance in there. He knew that his father was not an easy man to get along with, John Winchester was a paranoid hunter and he would not trust just anyone.

The doctor finally finished his assessment and had already packed his bag. He stood up and approached Bobby and Sam.

“Well, all of his vitals are functioning. If I didn’t know better I’d say that he was just sleeping and would wake up in a couple of hours. What did you say the curse was again?” Sam had hesitated. He was not sure what he should tell this man because he didn’t really have anything much to go on but Bobby beat him to it.

“Some old stuff, very powerful.”

“I see…”

The doctor had nodded his head few times. He didn’t seem very surprised. Sam guessed he was probably used to the weirdness around the hunting world and the supernatural.

“For the time being, there’s nothing we should do for him.”

“But he was pissing his pants. Won’t he need … food?” Sam had asked agitatedly switching his legs from right to left and folding his arms in front of his chest.

“He’s not in a coma. He’s just sleeping,” the doctor had said. “I think we just wait and see for now. Let’s wait a few days. Who knows what this curse is doing to your brother’s body.” Then, he’d turned to Bobby and asked, “you sure you couldn’t find anything on this particular curse? Lore or any description on what it is supposed to do to the cursed body?”

Bobby shrugged and shook his head. “We just know that it was a kind of a sleeping curse. The spell is too old and a too well guarded a secret. There’s not much information other than there should be a reversal spell somewhere.”

The doctor had heaved a heavy sigh and looked pointedly at Sam. “I need you to monitor his body, check his pulse rate, his temperature, his breathing … things like that and please let me know if he has another accident. In a normal condition I’d suggest to bring him to a nearby hospital to get a more thorough examination, some …  scan perhaps … but I don’t think we have that luxury do  we?”

“Demons may be after him and as hunters we’re not exactly welcomed,” Sam had said sheepishly, as he’d looked at the doctor from under his bangs.

“Yeah, I totally understand. You guys have been busy lately. Congratulations on making eight o’clock news. I think the feds are still looking for you,” the doctor had said, waving Sam’s discomfort away with a joke. Somehow it fell short and Sam had just smiled and chuckled a bit out of respect for the guy. He’d followed behind Bobby as the older man began to lead them out of the guest bedroom and into the living room downstairs. “I’ll see what I can do but in the mean time I think we just need to keep an eye on him. I’ll come back in two days with better equipment. You can give him a sponge bath once a day if you want. I think if he’s urinating then he’ll be sweating too and keep his bedding clean, changing his clothes regularly as well wouldn’t hurt.”

Sam had walked silently behind the other two men, occasionally nodding and listening intently to the doctor’s orders. They’d seen the doctor to the door where he’d promised to return in a couple of days. He and Bobby had spent a couple more minutes talking about other things, maybe a hunt or something, but Sam hadn’t really paid attention as he made a long list in his head of all the things that he needed to do to take care of Dean.

They decided to set up the upstairs guest room as a makeshift hospital room with Sam as the attending nurse. Like he would let any other people tend to his brother, anyway. Bobby thought it was part possessiveness and part guilt but Sam had just shrugged it off, refusing to dwell on it when he hadn’t got to. He would rather spend his time and energy, besides playing nurse to a sleeping Dean, on finding the second part of the ritual. It would be easier this time with two heads working on the same case. Bobby had more connections than he and Dean did which wasn’t surprising considering he’d been a hunter for far longer than either of them, even their father. Also the fact that Bobby had a communication network was a plus. Hunters came to him either to get more information or to update him, so he always knew more than anyone else.

"I got something!" the old bearded man announced one afternoon after Sam had finished giving Dean a sponge bath.

Sam had looked up and quickly squeezed the sponge under the running water before letting it dry on the hanger on the wall above the sink. Bobby emerged from the hallway clutching a brown envelope in his hand. Sam leaned on the kitchen counter with eyebrows raised in a silent gesture to tell him to go on with what he’d got.

"I managed to scrounge a favor from a friend of mine and told her about your problem," said Bobby. He’d pulled up one of the chairs before dropping the envelope on the table.

Sam had tensed when he’d heard that. "Not … about …"

"Noo… ‘course not. You think I'm an idiot?" Bobby had groused at him. "Told her I was looking for a cure because some moron had decided to put his fiancé into a deep sleep, imitating Romeo and Juliet with the hope that he could wake her up later after her engagement to another wealthy ass was cancelled."

"What?" Sam had asked, a confused frown on his wide forehead. "What's this gotta do with  Shakespeare?"

"What? You prefer I told her that some moron cursed his brother with a sleeping curse after he bound their souls together to avoid hell?"  he’d asked defensively.  He’d been snarky that day.

Sam had looked down guiltily, feeling like he should shuffle his feet or something. "Uh… no."

"Beggars can't be choosers. Just be glad that she agreed to help because she's into that romantic stuff."

"Fine, what did she say?"

"Not what she said but what she could get me." At Sam's raised eyebrows, he’d continued, "Are you familiar with the Endymion tale?"

Sam had frowned a bit as he’d racked his brain, (his terabytes of a hard disk for geek stuff, as Dean had called it,) for information about that Greek legend. He’d pulled out a chair and sat down in front of Bobby when his eyes cleared and a ding sounded inside his head. "The … uh … affair of the moon goddess Selene with a human guy called-"

"Endymion," finished Bobby with a nod. "You familiar with that?"

"Uh… I kinda stumbled on that when we were researching that case that jumped you in Pittsburg…" Sam had trailed off with a smirk as he’d remembered the case that managed to put Bobby in a hospital bed for a week.

"Woah… now, wait a minute, boy. It didn't jump me, he didn't jump me... I just got careless," Bobby said, indignant.

"…and then you got jumped. Yeah, don't worry Bobby we get it," Sam had assured him with a teasing grin. When Bobby glared at him and opened his mouth to say something, Sam beat him to it. “Well, while Dean went to interrogate the Doc's lab assistant, I did some research on the things that can put people into a coma or a deep sleep."

"And you stumbled on the curse," Bobby chimed in.

"Yeah, although, I quickly dismissed it when Dean called about the doc's experiments on the dream root. Never thought about it again until after I talked with the cherub."

"Do you know that the Endymion curse has a rather bleak background history?" asked Bobby.

"Sure! That's what drew me in, in the first place," admitted Sam casually. "But I got nothing on that lore because of the lack of a supporting manuscript. I doubt the curse even exists."

Bobby sent him a weird look before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t wanna know why you tend to gravitate upon the dark aspect of the lore to find solutions. Sometimes, I wonder what’s wrong with you and that’s not to say that your brother’s any better. God knows how many times I sent that kid to clean up a mess just to have him end up dirty; Two peas in a pod, the both of you.

"Anyway, it turns out that my contact got a friend from Greece who is the descendant of an old pagan priest and has all of his ancestor's literature preserved in his family library," Bobby said as he opened the brown envelope and presented the contents on the table between them.

They were copies of several old scripts written in ancient Greek. Sam carefully lifted them up and examined the content. He shuffled a few of them as he recognized the wordings.

"This is … the first part of the spell," he said as he glanced briefly at Bobby. "Except, some of the wording is different." Then, he frowned when noticed a few more differences. "No, it's a different spell."

"It's the same spell.”

"No, Bobby. You're wrong. This is not the spell. It's similar but not the same spell that I used," Sam had insisted as he put the scripts back on the table and pushed them towards Bobby.

"You know about the dark myth of Endymion? It's said that Zeus put the human Endymion to an eternal sleep to fulfill the wishes of the moon goddess Selene. Yet, according to this script, it was Selene who took Endymion's consciousness away then she asked Zeus to bind his soul to hers for eternity, because to make his body immortal without turning him into a god, the body must be rid of its soul."

When Sam acknowledged the myth with a nod, Bobby continued on. "There was supposed to be a spell for that kind of curse that was preserved by the priest of the temple of Selene as the Endymion curse and has become a strongly guarded secret of the priests ever since. But not only that; the spell came in two versions because one of the priests back then had attempted to alter the curse for his own gain.

"Now, the spell that you got from the archeologist was actually the variation of the original Endymion curse. It was a sleeping curse that literary separates the soul from the body and preserves the body in an eternal sleep. Some may say it was an immortality spell but I say it’s bull! What good does it do you to spend your whole eternal life sleeping your ass off?" Bobby asked and Sam responded with a snort but his amusement was gone immediately when Bobby leveled him with a sad look.

"What?" asked Sam tersely.

"Sam, the original Endymion curse came in two parts. The first part is the actual cursing ritual and the second part is the reversing ritual. The goddess Selene provided the reversing spell in case one of her children wanted to free their father from his eternal sleep." Hope lit up on Sam's face but Bobby lifted up his index finger to shush him. "According to this lore, one of Selene's children used the curse to put a maiden into an eternal sleep in her chamber because she had spurned her several times. But, when she asked Zeus to bind her soul to her, the father of the gods had refused and that caused the maiden to die within a week. Sound familiar?"

Sam nodded in understanding. “The archeologist and his wife. But, I bet that was why the priest changed it. He must have put a binding element on the curse. Perhaps he did it so he could call his lover's soul back when he reversed the spell!" exclaimed Sam excitedly.

"When he gets around to reversing the spell," corrected Bobby causing confusion to appear on Sam's previously delighted face. "Sam, he was killed before he managed to reverse it,  and the rest of the priests ordered the new version to be destroyed. Yet, apparently he kept a copy of it somewhere and someone must have found it and preserved it until it fell into the archeologist’s hand. So, the reason why you can't find the second part of the curse is because it doesn’t exist."

"Perhaps, he did not need it. There's still the second part of the original curse, the reversing spell. We can still rouse Dean using that spell," suggested Sam.

"Sure you want to chance it?" asked Bobby carefully. "The spell that you used had been tampered with and it's not the same spell as the original. Think it's gonna work?"

"Worth a try," said Sam with a shrug.

Bobby had looked at Sam for a minute longer, doubt clouding his eyes, but in the end he gave in to Sam's pleading. "Alright! I'll gather the ingredients. In the mean time, you study those spells; compare them for changes and differences. I'll see if I can contact an expert on this stuff." Bobby stood, leaving the copy of the original curse for Sam. "We'll get your brother back, Sam."

Sam had looked up as he reached for the papers and sent Bobby a grim smile. "Thanks Bobby. Knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, don't mention it. My life was dull, anyway. Shoulda kicked your daddy out first time he came here," muttered Bobby as he left the kitchen to go to his study.

"We love you too, Bobby!" Sam had shouted from the kitchen table, smiling fondly at his antics.

@@@

Bobby had just pushed the off button on his phone after he’d spent the last two minutes talking with Rufus when Sam had asked him. “What did he say?”

"Said he'll send us the rest of the ingredients within five days. Got to import some of them directly from Greece.”

"Okay," Sam had said, nodding gratefully.

“You said the cherub told you that you share a bond with your brother?"

"A mark on each of our souls, yeah."

"Then, let’s hope it’s true," Bobby had said as he settled back on the chair next to his phone hub.

Both of them had continued their research in silence on the kitchen table, comparing the differences between the second version and the original curse. There were only a couple of elements that had been changed by the priest but Sam noted that they did not change the purpose of the curse. The only tricky part was the binding element but he was sure he’d got that part perfectly. Sam still remembered the feeling of awe and wonderment that surged inside him when Dean’s soul followed him out of his body after he’d marked him with his blood. From the priest’s incomplete notes, it stated that both souls must be deeply connected; either they were brother souls or soul mates, before the spell was cast, if not the soul of the one who was cursed would fly away and could never be retrieved. This was tricky because, like the cherub said, no one really knew except angels. Demons might know but they weren’t inclined to let on were they? Sam was not really clear on where the soul would go if the binding spell had failed because the notes did not delve into detail on the matter.

Five days later found Sam, again, sat inside a pearly circle with Dean’s body laid out unmoving in front of him. Witnessed by an agitated Bobby from outside the circle, he began to chant. The words flew freely and fluidly from his mouth. There was a clay bowl on his lap that he kept alight as one by one, he threw the ingredients into the fire. After each one he felt the pull in his gut became stronger and stronger until there was a white hot pain that stabbed him from the inside. Sam held on. Wind was rushing in Sam’s ears and he vaguely heard Bobby shouting at him from outside the circle, probably noticing Sam’s distress, but Sam could not stop now. He must finish the spell. The pull was strong. There was another powerful force that seemed to hinder his efforts to complete the spell that tugged in the opposite direction making his insides feel like they were getting ripped out of his body.

Bobby was getting frantic. He screamed for Sam from outside the circle but just like Lilith, he could not get in. The spell enclosed Sam and Dean inside its pearly circle until it was done or Sam gave up.

“No! I’m not giving up!”

Sam scooped up the last ingredient, the root of a moonflower, and threw it into the bowl. Then, the pull became twice as searing and painful and Sam could not help but scream before his vision turned dark.

@@@

When Dean first became aware of his surroundings, he was hanging from chains that were all round him, some of them on fire and seemed to go on forever, crisscrossing the realm. Sulfur reeked in the air. At times the fire reached him and burned him to a crisp. The pain. Oh, the pain. How could he describe it? It burned. On top of the constant reek of sulfur, he could also smell his own flesh turning to ashes. He felt his skin melting slowly, dripping onto the chains below him. He was always conscious, thus he screamed. He screamed and screamed until his vocal cords were burned out and he was still aware of the pain. He was healed in a blink of an eye before the same process began again. Unconsciousness would have been a mercy but he guessed there was no mercy in hell.

There was no up and no down in this realm everything jumbled together. For quite some time, no one bothered him. They left him there alone with the fire, listening to the cries of other tortured souls. He could hear them but never saw them. Sometimes, their voices were so close that it deafened him but he still could not see them. He screamed for help, screamed for Sam, just screamed. Then, the whispers started. At first, it was his name. It echoed around him, spoken with hatred, with joy, with sorrow, with malice and with lust. He cringed every time it was whispered in his ear or breathed on his face, his skin.

There was no one around him. He was still alone, strung up on chains in a bottomless realm. He tried hard to blank out his mind, not hear the whispers but they penetrated through his inadequate defenses. One of them sounded like his mother’s voice, the others like his father, Sam, Bobby. He called out to them but of course no one answered.

“Please… please Mom! … Dad! You guys there? Please help me! … Saaaaaaaaamm!…”

He screamed and shouted until his voice was a mere whisper. He could only pant for breath, alone with only fear suffusing his mind. Then the shadows came. They were mostly shapeless, just black fog manifested from the ether around him. Hideous creatures with spikes, claws and horns protruding from the blackness of their ever changing shapes, breathing acid and sulfur whenever they said his name.

“Dean Winchesterrrrr…..”

The creature rasped.

Sulfur suffocated him and the acid burned his lungs as the creature hovered above his face. It clawed his chest and stabbed his stomach with its spikes.

“Ours noooowww…”

Dean swore and heard the creature giggle gleefully. His vision was hazy with pain and he was too tired to scream. As the acid corroded his insides, his body spasmed uncontrollably, pulling the chains taut against his joints, popping them loose. The creature cackled.

One time, they stabbed hot iron from his neck up through his skull, melting his brain until it leaked out of his ears like white hot lava. He could not even scream. One of them who had razor sharp blades at the end of its tentacle-like appendages, cut his balls and penis off before shoving the blade into his anus, all the while purring endlessly as it wrapped its barbed elongated form around his naked body.

The louder Dean screamed, the tighter it constricted around him.

Dean snapped his eyes open and he found his body had been fixed. There was a creature chained right above him. Its shape was human and it was drenched in so much blood that some of it dripped onto him. After so long alone, finally he saw another human in this realm, this hell. He wondered what did the other human had done to that sent him to hell. He was not sure how long the creatures would leave him alone this time, so he took best advantage of their absence to get to know the other soul. What else could he do, anyway?

“Hey! Can you hear me?!”

The figure stayed still and silent, seemingly unaware of Dean chained just below them. Dean called again, louder this time and the figure jerked. Dean waited impatiently until they acknowledged him. Two white eyes looked down at him and Dean’s blood ran cold. What kind of human soul had white eyes? They reminded him of Lilith’s eyes and he could not help himself but breathed out in dread, “Lilith…”

“Now, now, Dean. I think it’s time for me to introduce myself.” The human-like figure that Dean quickly realized was another creature of hell, grinned down at him, white sharp teeth not unlike vampire’s fangs shining from its bloody, faceless head. The creature fell down slowly, draping its bloodied form on top of Dean’s, its chains looped around both of them creating a cage.

“Name’s Alistair. How d’you do?”

The blood smelt putrid and rank making Dean’s nose twitch in discomfort. After the acid and sulfur, Dean was surprised that the smell of blood still bothered him. It seemed the creature noticed for it smiled wider, white sharp teeth elongated further, zigzagging against each other. 

“It’s your blood,” whispered the thing in Dean’s ear. “D’you know why it smells that way? The bigger your sin the ranker it smells. And those sinful thoughts about your brother? Oohhh, so delicious.” The creature crooned in Dean’s ear as it licked Dean’s earlobe with its enormous rough tongue.

Alistair was a blood lust demon. It lived on the misery and suffering of souls in hell. Dean suspected that its form was made of blood, the blood of souls that it had tortured. It was a torture master and an artist. It sat on Dean’s stomach and carved open his chest to eat his heart and liver, dipped its clawed hands into the cavern on his stomach to drink his blood, whilst Dean screamed in pain.

“Soooooo preeeeeeettttyyyyy….” Alistair keened; dragging its sharp nails along the side of Dean’s face flaying it open. It had sliced him up, ate his meat and bathed in his blood until he was left with only bones and skull.

“D’you know that nobody likes you here?” asked the creature as it licked its too long and sticky tongue on Dean’s sternum and collarbone, collecting scraps meat and blood still attached to the bones. “Azazel, Lilith, they hate you. Only I love you. You’ll be my masterpiece, my greatest pupil. Say yes, Dean.”

“Shove it … and kiss … my ass!” spat Dean between his pants. His voice was hoarse as he struggled to make a sound with his torn vocal cords. 

Alistair laughed. “I love your stubbornness.” 

Dean knew its game. Ever since it first came to torture him it had made him an offer. Dean could get off the rack just as long as he agreed to Alistair’s offer and do his biding, torturing souls instead of getting tortured, but he could not do it. He could not do it while he knew Sam was out there trying to find a way to get him out. Sam had promised to get him out and Dean believed him. Sam did something before he died. Dean did not know what it was but he still had hope that whatever done would free him someday. Dean just had to hold on.

Alistair knew. It knew what Dean was thinking and the demon despised it. It worked its damnedest to bleed Sam out of Dean’s mind.

“Saaaaaammmm?” the demon sneered. Dean was not sure how the demon was capable of it, what with the size of its teeth and tongue but it sneered. “We already had plans for him, don’t you worry. He wouldn’t have time for you. He’d be glad to be rid of you, Dean. Good for nothing big brother who always embarrasses him, humiliates him, drags him away from living a normal life. Only I love you, Deano. Only I …”

 

  


 

 

 


	4. Third Level: Prepare The Wand

**Third Level: Prepare the wand**

When Sam came to, he was being laid up on the worn couch in the living room with his head pounding and his insides raw as if someone had cut out his heart and lungs and scrubbed them with salt water before putting them back inside. His right hand grappled for the back of the couch as he struggled to sit up while his left palmed his chest in a soothing motion. Bobby was nowhere to be found but it was not like Sam spent time looking for him, because his attention was soon occupied by the still body slumped on a mattress next to the high pile of books not too far from the couch.

Sam pulled himself off the couch and fell unceremoniously down onto the floor with a loud thud. Then, he half crawled, half dragged his ass to Dean’s side, his body devoid of energy. He felt tired right to the marrow. He hovered over the motionless body of his brother. Hope and fear warred for dominance inside his heart as he did nothing but stare.

Dean looked peaceful, or as peaceful as he could be considering that he was cursed to sleep for eternity. The revelation that the curse was not a mere bonding curse but a variation of a sleeping curse, a dangerous sleeping curse, had shaken Sam’s confidence to see it to the end. At the time, Sam did not think much beyond getting Dean’s soul to safety after he was dragged to hell. The crossroad demons knew how to do their job right. They had done it for centuries and had trapped the cleverest and smartest human being in history. Their contract was flawless with not even a needle sized loophole, Sam knew. So, instead of screwing himself over the content of the contract, Sam thought about the terms outside of the contract.

Basically, the contract would be met exactly a year after Dean made the deal and it ended, must end when Dean went to hell. Not a day before, not a day after. As much as Sam loathed them, punctuality was crucial to demons. That was the only thing that could be relied upon with these lying, scheming bastards. Dean would die right at the exact time as the contract dictated. Then, the contract would be met and declared null. Dean would be free to do anything as long as it did not jeopardize the contract, in the other words, as long as Dean went to hell, or Sam would drop dead in an instant. But one thing about Demons that Sam knew, only too well, was that they were a bunch of arrogant bastards.

For most people, hell was an abstract concept at most and many did not believe in it at all but Sam knew hell existed because that was where demons came from. A creature so vile and so evil that Sam could only shudder to imagine how bad the place must be. Yet, still, no human ever graced hell except for the dead and that was where the contract ended. It ended when Dean died. No terms were stated for after his death because demons were confident that no human could ever enter hell and leave again as they pleased. This was Sam’s playground. He could do anything short of summoning an angel to pull Dean out of hell and the demons would do nothing except getting pissed. Yes, Sam believed in angels. What was not to believe, he had met one hadn’t he? He was sure there were more powerful angels beside the cherub he summoned few months back. It was only natural that when there was evil in the world, there would be good too. There had to be.

If only the curse would work.

Saying that Sam had been under a lot of pressure was a huge understatement. In those last few weeks before Dean had gone to hell, Sam had spent the time being short with his brother; always snapping and lashing out at him for no apparent reason. To make matters worse, Dean would not rise to the bait. He would only look at Sam with sad, forlorn eyes that cut Sam deeply, before saying sorry and leaving the room. Sam had known that Dean wanted to spend time with him, to make the last moments of his life memorable but Sam just could not do it. He couldn’t wrap the idea of Dean going to hell around his head let alone accept it. Moreover he’d been busy fretting over the curse.

It was a binding curse, Sam had known that. There were many pointers that showed the characteristics of a binding ritual but it was also incomplete. Sam had known that too. The spell should have been more detailed about rousing the victim from the spell induced sleep. Yet, there was nothing in the script that said when and how it should be done. Sam had even contacted the archeologist’s wife and his colleagues for the original script and asked them if there was more information but none of them had given him a satisfactory answer. It was not until after they had Bobby’s findings that they finally learned the curse was never meant to be finished.

Sam had been pressed for time. Lilith was getting close, too close on their heels and he had no other choice but to perform the ritual right away before one of her hell hounds could rip Dean to shreds. No one escaped hell hounds. 

“Dean…”

Sam’s voice was soft almost afraid. He scrutinized his brother’s face for any sign of awareness, of any sign that the spell had worked.

“Dean…”

His hand hovered above Dean’s face, feeling the soft movement of his breath. At least he was alive. 

“Dean?” Sam hesitantly touched his palm to Dean’s left cheek, shaking him a little. “Dean?!” But however many times and however hard he shook him, Dean remained still and unresponsive. It was not long before Sam was screaming above his brother’s face, pleading for him to wake up.

The reversing spell was his last hope. Between cursing Dean for the first time and finding the reversing spell, not even once Sam lost hope. He had always been calm and reasonable, engaging Bobby in intellectual discussion and even when Bobby had reprimanded him, he’d taken it in his stride. Now, it was as if all hope had gone. He knew they had nothing besides the reversing spell and even then, as Bobby said, it did not guarantee success.

Sam screamed and cried until his voice became hoarse and his nose filled with snot. He didn’t even register when Bobby came home and dragged his six foot four inches of a body across the room to the couch where he curled his trembling body on the floor. He thought he’d heard Bobby say something but he couldn’t make out what it was because his ears were ringing and his mind was filled with hopeless denial over his brother’s state. In the end, Bobby left him alone.

@@@

Sam was barely aware of what happened in the next days. He vaguely remembered helping Bobby take Dean’s body upstairs but the rest of it was a blur. Sam spent the next month drinking and moping around the house. He even stopped taking care of Dean and leaving it all off to Bobby. Not that there were many things to do as it turned out, Dean’s body did not need any food to stay alive, the spell had taken care of it. After the first accident that he had, it seemed as though the digestive system of his body had come to a halt. While his heartbeat stayed at the same speed and his breathing stayed normal, his body needed no sustenance. Bobby thought it was a side effect of the second version of the curse. The original curse was an eternal sleeping curse that put the victim into an immortal slumber. It was a neat curse; Bobby said and allowed him to concentrate on working on the counter curse without being bothered by Dean’s care.

Of course, it was not as easy for Sam.

Every second he felt the pull, he was always reminded of his failure. It was worse because the pull seemed to be a fraction stronger than a month ago. There were no more leads and no sign that Dean had been saved from hell. Surely, if the spell had been successful Dean would be awake by now. Sam had probably botched the first curse. Instead of anchoring Dean’s soul, he had probably got him lost somewhere in hell. Retrieving him would definitely be harder now. So, he tried hard to numb the feeling by drinking.

“How much longer you’re gonna mope around like that?” asked Bobby one day when he’d finally got fed up with Sam’s grumpiness and unproductiveness. “It’s not gonna help Dean much, you know?”

“Does anything?” retorted Sam apathetically.

He was slumped down on the couch nursing a bottle of Jack, the second one that day. Bobby let out an annoyed sigh.

“I can’t deal with you right now, Sam. I’m knee deep in research for a case and with your brother’s case as well I believe I’ve overworked my brain and soon it’ll leak out of my ears, but if you decide not to help me with it then you better make yourself useful elsewhere.”

“You throwing me out, Bobby?” Sam’s head was lolling left and right.

“I’m trying to stop you from getting alcohol poisoning. Now, get up from that couch, get sober and I want you out of here by tomorrow afternoon!”

“You sending me to hunt alone?” asked Sam, squinting his eyes at the spot where he thought Bobby’s voice had come from.

“It’s a simple salt and burn. Nothing you can’t handle.”

That was why Sam found himself in the middle of a graveyard, in the dead of night, somewhere in Indiana, standing in front of the newly turned grave of a sixteen year old girl who had haunted her former best friend for stealing her boyfriend. The smell of burnt ashes had invaded his nostril and the smoke had burned his eyes but Sam stood there silently. His mind flew back to two years ago when he and Dean had had to burn their father’s body. Deep in his heart, he was grateful that he hadn’t had to burn Dean’s but what good that was compared to his state right now? There was a high chance that he would be like that forever, cursed in an eternal sleep. Like Endymion. Like sleeping beauty. It would be nice if Dean could be woken up with a kiss like in the children’s story. 

Wait a minute. A kiss.

Sam blinked once, then, again twice, before he hurriedly shoveled down dirt into the still burning grave, dousing the flame. He covered the grave in record time before scooping up his shovel, salt container and fuel can and dumping them unceremoniously into the Impala’s truck before quickly jumping behind the wheel and gunning it to the motel.

Sam burst through his motel room door leaving it open as he made a mad dash around the room, gathering his clothes and meager belongings. He’d got careless in his haste had forgotten to re-salt the door. Two demons came barreling through, catching Sam off guard and beating him near senseless. Sam had fought back but the strength of two demons plus the element of surprise clearly hadn’t benefitted him. Soon, he was sent sprawling across the floor with one of the demons holding his wrists behind his back and yanking his hair up.

A black haired guy with pale skin entered Sam’s blurry line of vision. His pit black eyes blinking mockingly at him as his lips sneered in disgust.

“Sam Winchester!” he tutted. “You’re a pain in every demon’s ass.”

The demon stepped aside to grope around Sam’s waist band and steal the demon killing knife from him.

“Thanks for keeping this warm for me, Sam.”

“Ruby!” grunted Sam surprised.

The other demon that had held Sam on the floor yanked him up until he was kneeling, hands still bound, in front of Ruby, throat exposed.

Ruby was wearing a male meat-suit this time.

“Hello, Sam. Nice to see you again! Let’s have a little talk, shall we!”

“What’s with the change of clothes? Thought you were rotting in hell,” Sam spat at Ruby. He was less enthused to see her, er… him, now. He knew what Ruby wanted but he didn't think he could do it. He refused to do it because that had been Dean’s last warning to him; not to use his psychic ability anymore.

“Now, now, Sam. No need to get rude. Lilith sends a message.” Ruby slipped close to whisper in his ear, “she wants you to surrender as her bitch or I have to kill you.”

When he stepped back, Ruby’s smirk looked disturbing. Sam gritted his teeth, glaring at the demon with loathing.

“She can kiss my ass!”

Ruby’s smirk got dirtier as he purred, “As you wish.”

Sam did not close his eyes when Ruby lifted up his knife. Instead, he looked down at him with contempt and hatred poured in abandon from his eyes. He was ready to die. He was flabbergasted when Ruby stabbed his knife through the other demon’s neck behind Sam, nicking the right side of his neck as a result. Sam stood stunned as he looked down at the demon on the floor, dead. He turned questioning eyes towards Ruby.

“What? You think I’ll really kill you?” retorted the demon with a lazy shrug. “Get your keys! We gotta go!”

Ruby left Sam a little bewildered alone in the room, gesturing to him to hurry up while he stood guard at the door. Sam hurriedly grabbed his bag and locked the door behind him. Hopefully, no one would find the body before he was at least a state away from there. They took the back stairs that led to an alley behind the motel, closer to where he’d parked the Impala. He glanced towards Ruby several times during their flight. It was odd to see ‘her’ in a male meat-suit now. Apparently, demons really were not picky when choosing their meat suit as he was almost certain that Ruby was a girl.

“Like what you see?”

Ruby’s voice startled him. Sam caught him sending a playful smirk at him.

“I guess you’re not picky in choosing who you wear.”

“What? Don’t you like it?” teased Ruby with a wink.

The look that Ruby had sent him chilled Sam’s bones right down to its marrow. It was so lustful that he had to wonder if this really was Ruby. There certainly a blatant come on in that look that somehow rubbed Sam the wrong way. Not that the meat suit that Ruby had picked for his latest incursion top side was ugly. It wasn’t. The guy had been handsome, average height, but still shorter than Sam by about five inches, dark hair, pale complexion, bright green eyes and thick red lips. If Sam had a tendency to swing that way he might have had to call him hot. Sure, he’d always been curious especially because a few of his close friends at college had been gay but Sam was always a shy kid. There was a reason why Dean always called him a prude.

Speaking of Dean…

“I guess I owe you one this time but let’s just call it square and go our separate ways,” Sam suggested, walking faster and passing him. The pull in his chest had become increasingly strong since Ruby had showed up.

“Wait! We have to stick together. Demons are looking for me right now. I’m a fugitive now, Sam.”

“Good luck, then.”

“Sam!” Ruby caught his arm and whirled him around, pushing his back to the hard cold concrete of the back alley. “Listen, I risked my neck to save you. The least you can do is say thank you and since now most demons are going to be gunning for my ass don’t you think it’s for our best interests to help each other?” proposed Ruby as he crowded Sam. “I can help you kill Lilith. I have few tricks up my sleeve but I need your psychic power.”

Sam regarded him silently. It was the same thing that Ruby had said almost a year ago, that they could beat Lilith by using his powers. Sam felt a stir of anger swirling low down in the pit of his stomach. The smell of revenge was so sweet he could almost taste it but there was another feeling stirring inside him. A tug that dragged him, called to him, urged him to go somewhere, to do something. It was the feeling that he’d always felt ever since he’d cursed Dean to sleep and had put a stronger, more permanent mark on his soul.

He frowned at Ruby’s determined upturned face and a question sprang to his mind.

“How did you get out?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“What d’you mean?” Ruby blinked, looking somewhat hesitant.

“You got caught red handed helping us. I don’t think Lilith just let you go that easily,” Sam stated calmly. He stared down at the shorter man with a calculating look. There was something that did not add up here.

“You think it was easy? Even for hell, it was nasty. I was tortured in every way for every second I spent there.” Ruby stepped closer to Sam pinning him to the rough wall of the alley. “You can’t imagine what I’ve been through, Sam, what I had to do to gain Lilith’s trust again. Imagine my relief when she gave me one last chance to go top side. Just to kill you,” said Ruby with unveiled annoyance in his eyes.

Sam regarded him coldly, calculating his words and the truth behind them, staring into Ruby’s pale face, trying to tell if he was lying. “The question is why did she let you out at all?” Sam wondered loudly, enough to put a slight tick to Ruby’s calm and controlled expression. “From what I know demons are not particularly forgiving creatures and I know for a fact that you’re nothing special. She could’ve easily replaced you with stronger demon to do the job. Unless, there’s something that you’re not telling me?” He baited. There, he’d put his doubt in the open. It was a reckless move but if there was one thing that Dean had taught him it was ‘If the enemy thinks you’re being reckless then they’ll probably lower their guard. We just have to know when to catch them at it’.

“I managed to gain your trust, didn’t I? That’s way farther than any other demons can hope to achieve. That’s my leverage. She knows she can use me. She knows I can use your trust so I can kill you.”

“But she also knows that you can betray her again. Why take chances? I wouldn’t.” Sam pushed Ruby off him and turned to leave. He’d only taken a few steps before Ruby told him the big news, well, shouted it at him actually.

“Dean’s gone from hell!”

That stopped Sam in his tracks. It was the best thing he’d heard for a month. Since he’d thought the reversing spell had failed and he’d sunk into an aching depression he’d tried to drown in whiskey. It sounded like a dream that was too good to be true. Dean was gone from hell!

“Is that true?”

Sam whirled around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Hope and elation leaked from through his tone and expression as his eyes zeroed in on Ruby. The demon shrugged his shoulders.

“You didn’t know?” Now, it was the demon’s turn to frown. “That’s one of the reasons why Lilith is so pissed right now. She’ll do everything to get Dean back. She sent all of her demons to hunt Dean down, even let me top side to get information from you. She thinks you probably had a hand in it.”

“Whatever she thinks I did, this is the first I’ve heard,” said Sam. He walked back to where Ruby stood near the wall. He stopped, towering over him, voice cold as ice when he demanded. “You have to tell me all about it!”

“No one is strong enough to spring a soul from hell, Sam. At least, no one that I know,” Ruby said dispassionately as if he did not really care. Sam thought, perhaps, he really did not. Ruby never really cared about what happened to Dean. 

“And she thinks I can?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” said Ruby as he leaned back against the wall. His posture relaxed and at ease with both hands buried inside his jeans. Yet, there was challenge in his voice and he looked too smug for Sam’s liking. Sam’s suspicions escalated.

“What d’you get out of all this?”

“What-”

“Why d’you so desperately wanna know if I am the one who sprung Dean out of hell? If I did, what makes you think that I’d tell you? I wouldn’t need you, anyway.”

Ruby raised one eyebrow. “Does that mean you didn’t?”

“Why d’you care?” Sam hissed at him.

Ruby’s features turned cold and furious. He stepped closer and leaned his face near Sam’s, as close as his height could afford him, he whispered. “If you did, then you’re in more danger than he ever before because Lilith never loses a soul from hell.  I can help-”

“Help me with what?!” snapped Sam aggressively. “You couldn’t save Dean. All the shit you spewed at me last year was all bullshit. You never intended to save Dean because no one can but you strung me along, made me believe that you somehow have a wicked trick to help my brother. It was all just a trick wasn’t it?” Sam stepped back two paces, regarding Ruby hardheartedly. There was uneasiness inside his heart that pulled him away from there. The pain that was not unlike the one he’d felt when he was doing the ritual for the reversing spell.

“I’ve never known the real reason why you help us. Why you went out of your way to gain my trust. In the end, I have no real use for you except for the demon slicing knife.”

“I told you before. I can help you to bring down Lilith. I wanna be on your side-”

“Yeah, whenever I win this stupid war and become king of hell. I’ve heard.” Sam nodded couple of times. “But, you know what? I don’t care. I don’t care about your war. I don’t care about the world. If it gonna cost me my brother, then let it end. I’ve lost so much I feel numb. I don’t wanna feel that pain again.”

“But Sam…”

“Go away, Ruby!” Sam shouted, turning his back towards the demon as he left the alley.

Yet, Ruby was unrelenting. He was determined to follow Sam, to make him see things his way.  Sam had to threaten him with exorcism before he fled, leaving his host to drop to the ground like a rag doll. After checking that the body still had a pulse, Sam quickly snatched Ruby’s knife and left as the guy was starting to wake up.

***

“Are you sure?” Bobby pressed him.

“Depends if you trust Ruby’s words or not,” answered Sam truthfully.

Bobby sent him a look before grunting and thumping down the living room into the kitchen to make a call. “Guess we’ll just have to make sure for our self.”

Bobby’s network of hunters was impressive. He knew lots of hunters that Sam and Dean had never heard of. He also had connections with lots of other people who were not hunters but still involved in the hunting world. Specialists and the like. He had also sent word out there was a soul missing from hell. It was not until three days later, three too–fucking-long days according to Sam, that they got a word from Rufus Turner.

Rufus was a hunter, a damn good one, Bobby said but something had happened a few years back that had forced him to retire and live like a hermit. The man was even more paranoid than Bobby, Dean had said, but he was useful. Rufus had called Bobby, informing him, shouting at him more like, poor old man, that the demons that had broken into his house and jumped him were looking for one Dean Winchester. They’d thought that just because Dean had visited him once that he would automatically know where his soul had gone. Bobby trusted Rufus. Even when things seemed to be a bit on the cold side between them, Bobby trusted him and that was enough for Sam.

So, it was true then. Dean was gone from hell. Somehow, through some miracle, the spell worked. Sam just did not know where to look for Dean’s soul now that he was out of hell. He did not know how to call to him let alone how to put him back in his body and wake him. Sometimes, Sam wondered if the Winchester life was cursed.

Then, Bobby got a good idea. He told Sam one morning that they could try the trick Sam did two years ago when Dean was laid up comatose on a hospital bed. They could try the Ouija board to see if Dean’s soul was with them.

“You think Dean’s here?” questioned Sam with a little too much hope in his voice. He skimmed the living room with a glance, hoping to get a glimpse or a feeling of Dean being near them.

“You boys don’t have a permanent home. My best guess is, if Dean does roam the earth as a lost soul, he’ll be here because we all know Dean will look for you.”

“Yeah, good idea Bobby. So, when do we start?”

Sam left Bobby rummaging in his basement for an Ouija board, that he swore he’d put there many years ago. He went up to Dean’s room, itching to test the theory that he’d had before he was rudely interrupted by Ruby and his demon lackey. It sounded silly the more he thought about it. A kiss. Could it be that simple? Standing tentatively next to his brother’s unmoving body; Sam took a couple of deep breaths, strengthening his resolve. He slowly knelt on the floor, his body swaying back and forth in hesitation before he closed his eyes and dived in for the prize.

It was brief, but during those few seconds Sam learned and catalogued a couple of new facts about his brother. He learned that Dean’s lips were soft and they tasted like cantaloupe. As much as Sam’s curiosity tried to persuade him to linger a bit longer just to find out more about his brother’s delectable lips, his conscience reared its head reminding him of the morality value of his actions. Sam jerked his head back, mortified but could not help himself licking his own lips savoring Dean’s taste.

For a few tense moments, Sam stayed rooted to his spot.  During those thrilling moments of hopeless anticipation, Dean lay still. No twitch, no tick, nothing. Sam visibly deflated as a lungful of breath that he had unconsciously held, escaped his down turned lips. Another hope dashed, Sam was back to square one.

An hour later, Bobby bounded up the stairs, as fast as his cracking old bones allowed him, lifting a battered and stained Ouija board up in victory. He quickly laid the board on the floor and ushered Sam into position. They spent the better part of two hours calling Dean’s soul, just like Sam did two years ago… and failed spectacularly. Of course, Sam should have known that it would not be that easy. Even when Bobby suggested doing it outside the house just in case Dean’s soul was banned from entering because of the protection sigils, Sam was still skeptical. He was right, the pointer did not move even a millimeter when they tried it out in the middle of the scrap yard.

@@@

Sam sat gingerly on a high backed chair, fiddling with Dean’s bull horned amulet as he shot an anxious look at Bobby. A pentagram tablecloth clad the round table between them. A beautiful woman with dark hair and tanned skin was crouching down in front of an open travel bag behind Sam’s chair. After a few seconds rummaging inside the blue canvas bag, she stood back with an armload of big candles. Kicking the bag away with the heel of her boot, she sauntered to the table and proceeded to arrange the candle in the middle of the pentagram before taking a seat on one of the two empty chairs left beside Sam. She lit the candles in a sequence that followed the pattern of pentagram before taking a couple of deep breaths as she closed her eyes, touching her fingers on her temples.

“Right,” said the woman after she emerged from her brief meditation. “Take each other’s hands to form a circle. No matter what happens I implore you, Do. Not. Let go of the hands.”

Sam looked at Bobby questioningly and saw as the older man shrugged before offering his hands on the table. Sam had no choice but to trust Bobby and grasped his right hand with his left.

As a last effort to find out if Dean’s soul was really out of hell and roaming the earth, Bobby had invited a sassy psychic named Pamela to try to contact him. The best damn psychic in the state according to him. Pamela had informed Bobby that she had Ouija-ed her way into contact with dozens of spirits but none of them seemed to know for sure what had happened to Dean’s soul. Through the spirit grapevines, there were rumors that his soul was yanked out of hell by some force but no one could confirm it since they’d never met his soul on earth. Thus, here they were now, gathering in Bobby’s living room to perform a séance so Pamela could take a peek into the spirit world and perhaps, if they were lucky, draw Dean’s lost soul to them. Sam refrained from expecting too much from this.

“May I borrow that, please,” asked Pamela gesturing to the amulet. Sam reluctantly gave the pendant to her, slowly lowering it onto her outstretched open palm.

“I’ll return it to you when it’s over,” she assured him as if sensing his hesitation. She smiled indulgently at him waiting until she got his nod of approval before looping the necklace around her wrist twice, putting the amulet right in the middle of her palm, holding it tight. Then she directed Sam to place his right hand on top of hers and held Bobby’s left one.

Closing her eyes for the second time, the pretty psychic started chanting. Her tranquil voice filled the room creating a chilling atmosphere.

“I invoke, conjure and command you, the spirit of Dean Winchester to appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure and command you, the spirit of Dean Winchester to appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure and command you, the spirit of Dean Winchester to appear unto me before this circle. I invoke … is that you, Dean?”

“Dean?!” gasped Sam snapping his eyes open looking frantically around the room.

“Someone’s here but …”

Pamela kept her eyes closed as she struggled to grasp the new entity that had entered the room with her mind’s eye.

“Is he here? I don’t see him!” Sam complained with distress as he failed to see his brother.

“If you’re Dean, I command you to show yourself!”

The light above the table started to flicker and wind suddenly blew around them, knocking Bobby’s pile of books over the table and sending papers swirling madly in the air, buffeting around them. 

“Dean! Are you here?!” shouted Sam anxiously. “Dean!”

“Relax Sam, I almost got it!”

“Why doesn’t he show up?”

“I command you Dean Winchester to show yourself!”

“Where are you boy?” grunted Bobby.

“Dean!”

“Show yourself, now!”

The candles exploded and the room was plunged in sudden darkness and shards of glass fell to the floor.

@@@

Next time he’d become aware, Dean had found himself hovering in a void. He was numb and all around him was darkness. He could not even hear his own voice, could not see his own limbs. He thought this was Alistair’s newest torture but nothing and no one came at him. Dean did not know how long he’d spent in the void until he started to forget things, starting with his name, his parents’ names, his life but he tried hard to remember Sam. Until Sam had no meaning, just a three letter of word. Then, there was light coming from nowhere and the next second he was stood in the middle of a room behind a shaggy haired man who sat on a high backed chair in front of two other people sitting around a table.

He who remembered Sam looked around the room in wonderment. The abruptness of the change of scenery sent his spectral mind staggering. His senses were blasted by the onslaught of smells, sights and sounds after he’d spent for so long being numbed by the void. He drifted away from the room, ignoring the screaming woman at the table and went to explore the quieter parts of the house. There were many interesting things to look at. Warm feelings flooded his senses as he wandered through the other rooms looking at things and he felt a little bit overwhelmed by it. Something about this house and everything inside it felt familiar to him. His curiosity was peaked when he found a prone body on the bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He spent some time studying it, poking it with his transparent fingers before he realized that he could not touch it. He was disappointed and quickly grew bored and wandered back to stand behind the shaggy haired guy who was now joining the woman’s shouting with his own distressed voice. Somehow, he’d been compelled to return to this room without meaning to. He paid them no mind until the woman in the room called the other guy ‘Sam’.

He who remembered Sam perked up when he heard the word and he began to study the guy who was called Sam, intently. This guy had longish dark hair that was the same color as the sitting tool. He had a pointy nose and eye color that changed under the glow of fire. There was a dot of black beside his pointy nose. He also had two patches of hollowed skin on each side of his face that looked rather nice whenever he showed his teeth. He decided he liked this guy who was named Sam and curiously watched his every move. He seemed anxious and frantic right now.

A powerful force surged through he who remembered Sam. It felt like his very core was ripped apart and he was pulled in two different directions. The pain was so unbearable that he decided to let go of his awareness and stumbled back into the void.  

@@@

“Everyone alright?” asked Bobby, putting a gas lamp on the table after retrieving it from under his desk.

“Yeah, nothing but a couple of cuts here and there,” answered Pamela as she checked herself over. Sam rose from the table to get the med kit.

“What was that?” asked Sam curiously from the across the room where Bobby stored the med kit  on two shelves of a cabinet.

“That was…… weird, I must say,” said Pamela slowly, as she appeared to collect her thoughts.

“Weird how?” asked Bobby, voicing Sam’s thought.

“Well, there was something or rather someone hovering in the room…”

“Dean?” asked Sam hopefully.

“… nnn..not sure,” answered Pamela carefully, a slight frown marred her pretty face. “It did not react when I called him by his name. Could have been Dean, could’ve been another spirit, but one thing’s for sure he was drawn here. Then, when I forced him to show himself, there were two warring forces that worked against each other for a few seconds, centering on this spirit, before everything went dark.” Pamela looked into each of their eyes in turn, solemnly said, “and then it was gone.”

The séance with Pamela hadn’t really shed much light on the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Dean’s soul from hell, which Sam skeptically thought it might. They had run out of ways to summon Dean’s soul or even just to make sure that Dean’s soul was somewhere on earth but one thing was for sure, the demons were furious. Almost every day, Bobby received a call from hunters informing him that demons were recklessly possessing people looking for information about Dean’s whereabouts. It was clear that Lilith was furious about losing Dean and that was enough to make Sam want to get away and stay somewhere secluded with Dean. At least, until he could find a way to reverse the curse and rouse Dean from his spell induced eternal slumber.

 


	5. Fourth Level: Cast the Somnus Spell on the Unsuspecting Victim

**Fourth Level: Cast the Somnus Spell on the Unsuspecting Victim.**

_Two years later, Sam’s little cabin on the outskirts of Salem, South Dakota …_

Five months after the failed séance, Sam had decided that he needed to find a job that allowed him to work from home. He and Bobby still worked relentlessly researching the spell but due to circumstances Sam could not leave Dean to hunt. With the threat of Lilith finding his body, Sam did not trust anyone to get close to Dean, except Bobby. He would rather lay low and work behind a screen than risking trouble. Bobby understood Sam’s paranoia and had contacted friends of his, doctors and professors from reputable universities all over the country, to help him. Sam had never realized that Bobby had such a lot of friends in the educational field but Sam thought he should have guessed it what with the many rare books collected all over the old man's house. They had to have come from somewhere, right?

Bobby had introduced Sam to a one of his contacts from San Francisco University, Dr. Visyak. She wasn’t that helpful with Sam's personal research on the curse itself but did introduce him to various other people who were in need of Sam's knowledge and skills. Sam accepted jobs on law consulting and several research projects from university professors. Bobby also helped him set up his new house at the edge of a forest near Salem. It was a small nondescript house with a bedroom and one bathroom, more like a cabin actually, and was demon proofed by Bobby. It was not much but sufficient until Dean woke up. If you were talking about faith, yes, Sam still had faith that Dean would wake up someday and hopefully soon. He refused to believe that his brother would abandon him in the world alone and if what Ruby had said was true, then, wherever Dean was right now, Sam was sure that Dean had heard his calling.

Sam’s life was boring and redundant but it was safe. Demons couldn’t get into the house and he made sure not to leave the house too often. Bobby came by once a month to replenish Sam’s supplies of food and other household necessities. They didn’t trust anyone else to come to the house for fear that demons would find a way to break in. Sam had developed a schedule that he followed religiously. Unlike his brother who luxuriated in the beauty of surprises and volatility and reacted impulsively, Sam loved predictability and stability. He could control all the elements of his life if he knew what to expect and what was about to happen. It was normal; it was safe.

“Yeah, I got it, Bobby!” said Sam into the phone that was clamped between his left shoulder and cheek as his hands danced on the keyboard of his laptop. “Soon as I’ve finished this contract revision, I’ll check your mail…. …. Uh huh… really?!” Sam’s fingers froze mid tango as he breathed in wonder. “Wow!” Sam pushed himself away from the table before spinning in his chair, holding his phone properly in his left hand. He leaned over to put his elbows on his knees. “Are you sure it’s legit? You got to let me see it, Bobby! …… yeah, … How did he get it, anyway? … … Bella?! I thought she was dead… ……. I guess … have to admit that she did have a vast network for weird stuff. Okay, I’ll contact you soon about your email.”

Sam sat stunned on his spinning chair, mind revolving around Bobby’s findings and the progress that he would be able to make with it. Spell creation was high level witchcraft, only powerful witches could generate new spells. There were not many of them nowadays, most of witches that they’d met had been mere practitioners who had no knowledge of witchcraft beyond casting spells from leather bound books. Even Sam’s knowledge about witches was limited to ‘identify what they do’ and ‘how to kill them’. He had no intention of becoming a witch in order to learn witchcraft but he was curious what powered up spells and rituals without witches around to cast them? He and Dean had cast many spells and rituals while doing their job and they’d mostly worked. So, perhaps magic and witchcraft were two different things but interconnected with one another. There was magic in spells and ritual ingredients and people like witches and warlocks could manipulate their magical energy as a means to achieve their goals.

He had had to put the research on Dean’s curse on the back burner for a while as he hadn’t had any new leads for the past six months. He had exhausted Bobby’s stash of books and had collected some of his own but he knew that every lore has a distinctive ritual that had to be followed specifically. Not to mention that each of the gods and goddesses required different rituals and different spells. If what Bobby had said was true and these really were the priests’ scrolls from the temple of Selene, then there could be dozens of spells and rituals that the occult had used at the time that would hopefully give him lots of references in understanding all of the elements and characteristics of Dean’s curse.  A hopeful smile broke out on Sam’s lips before he shook his head and spun around to get back to work, finishing the revisions he’d been making so he could check out Bobby’s mail.

Bobby’s email turned out to be about a hunt that had dealt with witchcraft. Some hunter guy named Garth had called Bobby asking for some information about a spell for a ritual that he’d found written on the wall of one of the victims’ houses. While he’d been researching the ingredients of the ritual, Sam had stumbled upon Wiccanweb.com, an online witchcraft shop hosted by Nora Havelock, a woman who’d helped him and Dean hunt a demon, two and a half years ago. Curious, he contacted her immediately.

“White magic?” asked Sam after Nora explained to him about her business. “I know, I know, I’m sorry…just to make sure. You know how dangerous these things are, Nora. I just ask you to be careful…. … right, okay. Well, I’m actually in the middle of a job, a research job I mean. I have been translating this spell and just need to shop for the ingredients of a ritual.”

Nora had promised to send Sam all the ingredients that he needed to perform the ritual and he’d implored her to send them directly to Bobby’s address so he could pass them on to Garth. They’d spent the next few hours on the phone and the conversation had led Sam to tell her about another spell for a sleeping curse like that that had befallen Dean. She had an affinity with spells and curses, which was why she was working in this line of business, so she’d offered her help to work on the spell.

That night, Sam went to lay down next to Dean with a lighter heart and a relaxed smile. He kissed Dean good night as usual and whispered to his brother about his findings. He told him about the priest’s scrolls and how he could not wait to get his hands on them so he could understand the spell better. He also told him that Nora had agreed to help them and that he felt better knowing there were more people working on his case, people that they could trust.

“Things are looking up, Dean. You’ll see,” promised Sam confidently.

There was a tug in his chest, brief but sharp tug that stole his breath. His right hand went to rub his chest to sooth the raw feeling away as he studied his brother’s face for a hint but Dean lay motionless next to him, just like he had for the past year and a half. It was not new for him to feel this pull, this connection, this proof of the binding, the marking that he had implemented on his brother’s soul, at any given time in any day. At times like this, Sam missed Dean so much that he could not help himself from burying his face in Dean’s neck.

“Missed you so much, Dean. Why wouldn’t you wake up?” Sam whispered the words into Dean’s skin, mouthing kisses on his neck, inhaling his brother’s warm musk that filled his chest with comfort and contentment. Sam looped his arms around Dean’s body, pulling him tight against him. He maneuvered Dean’s legs around his hip as he slid his right leg between Dean’s and they became tangled together. He stayed like that until the pain in his chest diminished into a dull throb.

Mostly he was happy that he could still feel Dean, still knew that his brother was not lost to him, that he was waiting somewhere, hopefully safe and not tortured by demons in hell, waiting for Sam to pull him back into his body, to wake him. He just wished that the pull did not come with the unbridled longing to get close to Dean, to touch him, to do things to his brother’s body, things that were not proper for brothers to do. It was so damn confusing but Sam loved Dean and there was nothing he would not do for Dean. He would work his ass off to get Dean better as well as resisting the temptation of the pull at the same time. Yeah, Sam could do that. Because he was stubborn. Because he loved Dean enough to not do that.

%%%

Sam was lowering his brother's body into the warm soapy water. The white bubbles were covering Dean's naked body from chest to toe. The tub he used to bathe Dean was modified to support Dean’s back and prevent him from sliding down into the water. Sam took the wash cloth and started to clean his brother's lax face. He rubbed his cheeks and lips with utmost care. He lathered soapy suds on Dean's neck cleaning away the lingering sweat that had accumulated there for four months and did the same to his armpits.  Sam continued to wash him all over, taking particular care to clean between his toes, fingers and between his legs. He left no skin untouched knowing that bacteria loved to visit unclean skin. He was sure that Dean would deck him if he woke up to find his thighs covered in rashes. 

The doctor had said that it was not necessary for Sam to bath Dean in a real bathtub, just sponge bath on his bed every few days was enough but Sam loved doing this. It was an intimate activity between the both of them and Sam savored it. After he’d finished washing Dean’s body he reached for the shampoo bottle. He lathered some between his hands then continued by washing Dean's hair. It was getting longer, Sam noticed.  It looked like he’d have to trim it before it reached past his shoulder. Sam pulled down the shower head and rinsed Dean's hair. He cleaned it thoroughly before taking out the scissors and a comb from the mirror cabinet above the sink. Sam trimmed Dean's hair carefully. His fingers moved deftly like an expert whilst he held a one-sided conversation with his silent brother.

"Same style again, Dean?" asked Sam teasingly. He imagined his brother would answer him with one of his snarky comments on Sam's own hair style and Sam would snort and say, “you're the only one who thinks this out of date style is awesome.”

Then, Dean would boast about how many girls fell for his looks and how hot his hair made him look.

"And it's nauseating looking at you preen like an overgrown peacock in mating season."

Sam could almost hear his brother's cocky answer of ‘It’s always mating season for me, Sammy. You should try it sometime. Then, you'll get that prude stick out of your ass.' Complete with his trademark smirk and glinting eyes.

"Yeah, yeah heard that all before," replied Sam, rolling his eyes.

Then, Dean would have to comment on Sam's girly hair and how his longish locks might cause his demise one day. Of course, these comments would never fail to get Sam riled up even if this conversation was only happening in his head, and he’d have to reply “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Dean would still get the last word in, though. Throwing out almost casually how he was the one who always had to save Sam's ass and that if his little brother wouldn’t cut his hair as he was told, he should be thankful of that at least.

That got Sam to tear up. Sam was so pathetic even his inner voice chided him for it. The last two years had proved to be very tough on Sam's emotional state. Every day reminded him of his failure and his unworthiness of Dean's unconditional love.

"I am, Dean. I am so grateful to have you as my brother and I wouldn't want any other," said Sam between his tears. He touched Dean's cheek lovingly and planted a kiss on Dean's forehead and a soft kiss on his lips. When he saw that Dean's eyelids were still closed, Sam let out a disappointed sigh.

He tidied away the stuff he’d used and decided not to shave Dean having done it the day before.  He would not need to do it again for at least two weeks. It was a side effect of the curse and Sam was glad of it. It made taking care of Dean easier. Not that Sam was complaining of course because he would gladly take care of his brother no matter what condition he was in but the slowing down of his body mechanism meant it took less time spent to groom him. With the life they led and without a proper graduate certificate, there was very little Sam could do to support their life without the aid of Credit Card scams and hustling.  
  
[ ](http://maaldas.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/1212/4669)

%%%

 _“It’s not necromancy, Sam! God why on earth would you think that?”_ Nora chided exasperatedly.

“I know! Even I’m not that stupid, Nora,” Sam snapped back at her. He had been in contact with Nora for the past few weeks as he consulted with her about the ritual ingredients that were used in various spells and rituals stated in the scrolls.  

 _“You’re not stupid,”_ said Nora in a softer tone. _“Just desperate.”_

“Desperation can lead to stupidity,” exhaled Sam sullenly. Somehow, the happy and optimistic cloud that had blanketed Sam seven days ago had slowly evaporated after the arrival of the expected ancient scrolls. Bobby had sent the leather bound scrolls himself along with translation scripts for half of the spells and rituals.

_Two weeks ago…_

“Wow! Bobby, you worked fast!” Sam had beamed happily, gazing adoringly at the translation texts as if they held the secrets of the universe. Well, in a way they did.

“They’re just the ones that mentioned anything about souls. That’s what’s important, right?”

“Yeah, yes! Of course!” Sam had snapped his eyes away the texts, looking up at the man who he and Dean had always considered as a surrogate Winchester. “The old Endymion curse banished the soul in order to make the sleeping body live for eternity but the altered version, put a mark on the banished soul that would work as a beacon for the (supposedly) revised reversal spell so that the caster could summon it back.

“…buuuut… since the genius engineer that crafted the altered Endymion curse was dead before he could assemble a reversal spell, that grueling task falls to us,” Sam deadpanned.

“Oh, Yay!” Bobby had mocked, rolling his eyes as he wandered over to the bedroom to check on Dean.

Sam had chuckled. “Chin up Bobby! This could be the answer to our problems,” Sam had shouted from the living room that also served as his makeshift office and study room.

It had been several seconds later before Sam had heard the older man’s reply as he’d come back out of the bedroom. “Not really sure about that. From the parts that I’ve managed to translate, seems there isn’t a lot of information about Endymion lore. Many of the rituals and spells were created and practiced long after it happened.”

Sam had watched Bobby as he’d sunk into the only couch in the house, ancient tome held close in front of his chest like a lifeline. “But you said you’d only managed to translate half of it, could be the answers are in the other half.”

“I said I’d managed to transcribe the translation. I mostly just skimmed a few paragraphs of each chapter to find out the contents. Most of them are girl stuff. Love spells, fertility rituals, dancing naked under the moon and the like. If you wanna know how to make your skin glow under the full moon, then, be my guest.”

Sam had smiled indulgently at Bobby. “Well, I think that’s a given. She was known for her countless love affairs after all. I can imagine that she was famous among the ladies back then.”

Bobby had heaved himself up, scratching his head under his cap and walked past Sam to the front door, clapping him on the shoulder. “Get to work, boy! Need to go get some poor sod’s old truck hauled in from the highway. Tell me if you find something new in that lot!”

“Yeah, Bobby. Of course! And thanks for the help, man. It’s …”

“Save it! You can thank me later when that brother of yours in there opens his eyes and chews you out for cursing him.”

Sam had to laugh at that because he could imagine how upset Dean was going to be when he woke up. That was just Dean, and Sam would let him bellyache, after he’d hugged the living daylights out of him that was.

%%%

_“Sam, Necromancy is black magic. It’s as simple as that. This spell for all intents and purposes was created for love. It’s based on the bond on the souls. Hell, even the circle is made of pearl.”_

“And salt.”

 _“Yes, and salt. They are purifying ingredients, Sam. Thank God, you haven’t tried to mix it with Necromancy spells ‘cause it’d destroy the purpose of the spell itself,”_ said Nora.

“Got it! White magic. No necromancy.”

_“So, is there anything in the scroll about calling a lost soul that isn’t necromancy?”_

“So far, no. But the translating work is almost done. Just two chapters left.”

_“Well, I have both versions of the spell and their translation. Let’s see if I can’t break it apart according to the ingredients and elements they represent. After you’ve done translating all of them I’ll be able to make a complete list of their elements.”_

“Okay, thanks Nora. I’ll contact you again when I’m done.”

Sam thumbed off his cell phone and put it on his desk before gathering the scattered papers into a neat pile. He took the papers with him and left the office after turning off the light. The night had rolled into midnight and he had spent the whole day bent over his desk translating the scrolls. Now, he felt like he had broken his back from sitting in the same position for too long. He went to the small fridge in the kitchen to get a can of beer and took it to the bedroom. He put the can on the bedside table, turned the lamp on and settled in beside Dean with the papers on his lap.

“Hey, Dean. D’you wanna hear a bedtime story?” asked Sam conversationally. He reached for the beer can, taking a gulp. “It is said that Selene, daughter of Titan, was madly in love with a mortal, the handsome hunter, that’ll be you Dean. He was so handsome that Selene asked Zeus to grant him eternal sleep so that he would stay forever young and thus would never leave her. Every night she slipped down behind mount Latmus to visit him and they had fifty daughters together.” Sam raised his eyebrow exaggeratingly. “Wow! Fifty daughters, you hear that Dean? She was one kinky goddess, I’ll say!”

Sam laughed at his own joke for several seconds before the laughter tapered off into a fond smile as he gazed at Dean’s sleeping face. Dean looked so calm when he slept. All of his tension lines smoothed out and he looked so sweet without his usual scowl or leer that he used when he was trying to gain the attention of waitresses in cheap diners all along the interstate. Sam felt compelled to touch his skin, to drag his fingers along his freshly shaven cheek and soft lips. He already knew that Dean’s lips felt soft and tasted heavenly. No wonder girls always threw themselves at him.

“I won’t be surprised if Selene decides to put you to sleep forever, Dean. You look so beautiful when you sleep. You’re so enchanting… and delightful … and I want …”

As if there was a string pulling him, Sam slipped down the bed to lie beside him half his body on top of Dean’s, papers forgotten, scattered on the floor beside the bed. He leaned his face closer and closer until his breath mingled with Dean’s. “…I want…”

Sam caught Dean’s scent and unbridled want overcame his senses. Rationally, he knew that this was Dean but there was small voice in the back of his mind, whispering the question: ‘Did Sam love Dean?’ He automatically replied, ‘Of course I love Dean. There’s no question about that.’ Another voice whispered, ‘Was it wrong to show Dean that he loved him?’ ‘Of course not.’ Dean deserved to be loved and he deserved to be shown that he was loved, especially by Sam. ‘Then, it was okay for Sam to do this, right? Just to show Dean that he loved him. Sam had to show him until Dean believed that Sam loved him enough for him to want to wake up.’

There was joy in Sam’s heart, a warm feeling in his chest, a sense of contentment and rightness the closer Sam got to Dean, and the more Sam gave in to this palpable urge.

Dean’s lips tasted the same; the same softness that Sam had been kissing these past two years. As he worked his tongue past Dean’s lips, he vaguely thought ‘Should I be doing this?’

%%%

Sam dipped his hand into the warm water in the bathtub. He was in the process of washing the soap off Dean’s skin as his hand wandered to his crotch area. He rubbed his palm on the coarse hair adorning the root of Dean's cock. He reasoned that there was nothing wrong with over cleaning Dean's genital area for the sake of being sanitary. And if his actions roused a certain organ, that was merely normal human reaction; after all Dean was a healthy and virile young man. Always had been and always would be.

Sam fondled …uh… cleaned his brother's crotch for thirty seconds until the shaft went rigid. He proceeded to clean the shaft's underside and his balls carefully and attentively while keeping tabs on Dean's facial reactions. Sam noted that Dean's breath had quickened twice in the last minute. That made Sam very curious to try other things.

Every time Sam took Dean for his bathing ritual every four months, he always did the task very thoroughly. He left no skin unscrubbed and no orifice unwashed including the anus. It sparked something dirty in Sam's mind and not in a bad way when he cleaned Dean's hole. At first, Sam paid it no mind and only focused on getting the task done as efficiently as possible so that he could get back to his research on the curse but lately the pull that he felt towards his brother was getting stronger and harder to ignore. He did not know if it was part of the curse or not but it was certainly getting him curious and Sam really wanted to see where it would lead him.

Dean's cock was now hard, thanks to Sam's thorough cleaning and …okay… a little bit of fondling, and jutting up above the water surface like a submarine periscope.

"Just like when we're kids, eh, Dean?" Sam chuckled, thinking about it.

He remembered when they were kids and their Dad somehow managed to rent a house with bathtub instead of just a shower. Dean used to bath him before they went to bed. They would jump in the overflowing bathtub together and played around for hours until their skin pruned or Dad shouted at them. Dean used to dive under water and pretended to be a sub marine. He then lifted his still developing cock and held it up with his hand until it reached the water surface just like the submarine periscope.

Sam usually laughed out loud at his brother's antics and demanded to do the same. Dean never let him dive in completely though. He always had his thigh under Sam's head to keep it above water when he was doing submarine impersonation. Sam's cock was so small at the time that Dean had to lift his bottom to make it break the water surface. Now, he bet he could beat Dean at the submarine game. Not that they took baths together anymore. Sam had insisted that he could take showers by himself when he reached eight. Now, he regretted not taking Dean's offer to bath him a little longer because he realized that bathing Dean was kind of fun.

Sam's fingers continued their curious journey to the underside of Dean's balls, cupping them in his hands and squeezing them a couple of times until Dean's breathing got faster and shallower Sam touched Dean's hole with his middle finger. He rubbed the puckered skin slowly with a small amount of steady pressure until the hole relaxed and opened up to let his finger in. Usually, Sam pulled his finger out for fear of abusing Dean’s body. But this time it seemed his curiosity outweighed his scruples, this action intrigued, if not aroused him the second his finger penetrated Dean's hole.

"Huh, that feels kind of … uh…"

Sam pulled his finger out a little before pushing it in again. He made a seesawing motion with his finger in and out. Soon, Sam was fucking his brother's hole with his middle finger as the water sloshed around his arm. Dean was panting by now. His lips were parted slightly and his chest rose up and down rapidly and Sam was entranced. He wondered what would happen when he added more fingers. So, he thrust his index finger in. Sometime, after the second finger went in, Sam noticed a slight change in his brother's breathing. After that, the third finger followed quickly.

Sam's attention was ensnared by the sight of Dean's flushed cheeks and his adorable freckles, pink lips parting with occasional small gasps and puffs and the whole vulnerable image of it. Never in Sam's entire life had he seen his brother this open and vulnerable. It stirred a deep feeling of protectiveness and possessiveness so strong that he wanted to envelop Dean in his arms and never let go. He did not care if Dean never woke up again because Sam would keep him safe no matter what. Keep him as Sam's. Sam had never wanted to own someone this badly before. The cherub only confirmed what Sam had always known instinctively that Dean was his and he was Dean's. They’d always had each other for as long as Sam remembered but this, this gave Sam a whole new meaning of ownership.

Wasting no time, Sam reached in behind Dean’s back, looping his arms around his torso to lift him up out of the tub. He hugged Dean on his lap briefly before standing up with Dean in his arms and going to the bedroom. As soon as he’d got his brother settled on the bed, Sam climbed up and kneeled beside his naked body.

Dean's breathing was still rapid and his cock was still hard and stood up proudly from the bush of dark blond pubic hair between his freckled thighs. Pearly strands dripped down its shaft. It seemed that during the short journey from the bathroom to the bedroom, Dean's cock had managed to squeeze precome out of its slit. Sam's mouth was dry. He’d barely registered his own swelling cock inside his jeans because he’d been too fascinated by Dean's cock. It was red, swollen and leaking come and Sam hungered for it. He reached for its base, curling his hand around it and started to jack him off slowly. He threw in a squeeze every few seconds and Dean's breathe stuttered accordingly. Sam was soon enjoying this more perhaps than he ought to but the desire that was coursing inside him prevented him from stopping.

"Oh, Fuck!" Sam breathed out.

Sam licked his lips and leaned over to taste the pearly liquid forming on Dean's head. It was musky and slightly bitter but there was an underlying taste that Sam knew he always associated with Dean. Sam had always recognized his scent. It was not leather, not gun oil, not burnt ashes. They were all smells that had clung to Dean during his life as a hunter. But Sam still remembered those early scents from when Dean had curled up around him under the blankets whenever he’d had a nightmare. The first scent that Sam had associated with safety and love and family was Dean's, because his mother’s scent had been burnt out in the fire and Daddy's scent had always reeked of sorrow and liquor.

Bursts of the bitter taste of the first rain after a long summer and the sweet smell of wet ground flooded his senses. The fragrances danced around his taste buds making him heady and definitely needy. The next second found Sam sucking his brother's cock hungrily and with abandon. Having no experience whatsoever made him sloppy and careless. Sam's teeth scrapped Dean's shaft several times but the soft grunts of protest from Dean went ignored.

Sam's left hand fondled Dean's balls and traveled back to the still red and puffy hole. His middle finger went in easily this time now that Dean's body was more stimulated, the contractions of his walls was stronger making the passage tighter and without the aid of soapy water the inside skin felt dry and hot. When two of his fingers were in, Sam felt them almost numb. Sam's own cock was constricted in his too tight pants and he would not be able to breathe if he didn’t get it out. Sam pulled his fingers out of Dean's puffy red hole carefully for fear of hurting him then quickly snapped open his button and lowered his zipper. He carried on jacking himself hard and fast in tandem with his right hand.

Sam could not take it anymore. His mind was cloudy with the haze of lust and desire made the pull towards Dean irresistible. There was a sense of urgency that made Sam take off his clothes in record time and hop on top of Dean's flushed body reveling in his burning heat and aroused state. Sam wrapped his left hand around Dean's cock, squeezed it and rubbed its head with his thumb. He nuzzled Dean's neck and rubbed his face on his chest. He took Dean's nipple between his lips, sucked and licked it until the poor nub became hard while his hand rubbed up and down Dean's firm chest and tweaked his other nipple between his fingers. Small whimpers that rumbled from Dean's throat were fueling Sam's desire.

"Oh, Dean…"

Sam yearned for those whimpers. He worked his right hand faster along Dean's shaft to coax out more of those sexy whimpers. He turned his head to the side and pressed his cheek to Dean's cheek to listen to every whimper and soft sigh coming from his lips.

Sam lined his hard cock up next to Dean's before wrapping his big hand around them and jacked them both off at the same time.

"Oh, fuck Dean!"

Gasps and moans filled the bedroom and most of them coming from Sam.

His hand clawed the pillow above his brother's head while he was moving on top of his body, straddling his hips and rubbing their cocks and balls together creating the most delicious friction that burned Sam's brain delightfully and he knew that he would not be able to hold back for much longer. That hot cavity inside Dean's hole called out to him. He’d got to get in there or he would explode and not in a good way.

Sam's fingers crept back to his brother's inviting hole. Two fingers at once. Sam crawled back down his brother's body. He pushed Dean's thighs up to his chest while his two fingers worked a steady rhythm in and out of Dean's tight ass. Without the splashing water around them Sam could push his fingers deeper and twisted them around forcing out a sudden reaction from Dean. A loud gasp tore out of Dean's parted lips accompanied by the arching of his flushed chest which was followed by a long, throaty moan. The sounds shot right through Sam's cock

"Fuck …ooohh… fuck!"

Sam thought that he might have had touched something good inside Dean's body but because of his limited knowledge on gay sex he barely registered what it meant. While technically he knew what the prostate was, it did not mean that he’d spent his life actively seeking it. Sam was straight or at least he’d thought he was and considering how much his brother loved chasing skirt, Sam was sure that Dean was too. Although he was a bit … okay … a lot of a man whore, Sam knew that Dean never thought of men as anything more than hunter pals or drinking buddies or sometimes if the occasion permitted, hustling victims.

Sam was fisting his own cock while he was stretching Dean's hole. Pulled apart his fingers inside and lifted up Dean’s right thigh over his shoulder. Then he pulled out his fingers and replaced them with the head of his cock. He touched the blunt tip of his cock at Dean's entrance and pushed in slowly.

The contraction was maddening. Once his cock head went through the hole, Dean's walls started to contract massaging his cock and drove him crazy with arousal. Sam thought he was done then and there, that he was going to come way too soon before the actual fucking had begun but he managed to hold out. He gritted his teeth and breathed slowly through his nose. Yet, he could not hold back his groan.

Sam started to fist Dean's leaking cock while he waited for his heartbeat to go a bit slow. When he was sure that he could handle it he pushed forward. Sam did not know if this was what usually happened when you fucked a guy but he was deeply fascinated with the way Dean's ass seemed to suck his cock in. Instinct guided him to move. He rocked in and out of Dean in tandem with the rhythm of his hand. He pushed in at the same time his hand twisted Dean's cock up. Root to tip; fucking in.

Sam clasped his right hand on Dean's left shoulder using it as leverage as he pulled out then slammed back in. His left hand grasped Dean's right thigh so tight he left bruises on the pale skin. He did it again and again. His cock pumping Dean's ass faster, fucking his brother harder and every thrust sent pulse of lust to Sam's nerves until all he craved was completion.

Sam closed his eyes in a trance. He was lulled by the spell of the motion and the moans and soft grunts of Dean that flood his ears building his arousal higher and higher.

"Oh God … Dean … you're so hot Dean, so fucking … oh…"

Sam had to let go of Dean's leg to cup his pink cheek. He curved his body around Dean's while his brother was writhing and arching beautifully under him. Sam slipped his right hand under Dean's elevated back pulling his hips down while he thrust up. He touched their foreheads together, gasping and puffing alongside him, sharing the same lustful air and reaching the same peak of pleasure.

"Yeah, … that's it… oh Dean … I'm so close …"

Sam raked his fingers through Dean's soft damp hair and clutched at its strands. He plunged his tongue into Dean's mouth, delving inside the hot cavern full of Dean's sweet distinctive taste. Sam kissed him hungrily. He stroked Dean's swollen cock faster, rubbed his thumb around the head and under it and squeezed the shaft so hard on the twist up until shots and shots of white rope spurted forth coating Sam's hand and Dan's chest with sticky come.

Dean's body had jerked up suddenly when he’d come. His grunts and cries were swallowed by Sam's demanding mouth. His throaty moans made Sam shudder. His walls kept contracting and rippling around Sam's oversensitive cock until Sam could not help it but pounded hard and deep inside him before going rigid on top of his body. Sam's cock finally gave and pumped its load deep inside Dean's body.

When he was spent, Sam went limp and fell down on top of his brother with a gasp. He buried his nose in Dean's neck breathing in his brother's scent and listening to his hammering heartbeat. The cloud of lust and desire enclosed both of them. For now, bliss was all that Sam felt coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes and drifted into unconsciousness.

[ ](http://maaldas.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/1212/4935)

 

 


	6. Fifth Level: Dream

**Fifth Level: Dream**

The sky was bathed in orange when Sam saw him standing in front of the house they lived in. Sam hurriedly walked down the steps and grasped his hand to drag him inside before he wrapped his arms around him and shouted in joy. Saying over and over that he’d missed him and was very happy that now he had him back but Dean remained silent. He only looked at Sam with a question in his eyes.

“Dean, what is it?” Sam could hear himself asking. “Aren't you happy to be back?”

Dean opened his lips to say something but Sam could not hear anything. He knew that Dean was struggling to say something but the words seemed to get trapped in his throat and his features showed his frustration.  

“Dean, what?”

Dean's face was pinched in upset and irritation. He lifted his hand and thumped Sam's chest twice with the flat of his palms.

Sam sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. When he lifted his head up he found himself naked and draped all over Dean’s equally naked body. Mortified, he scrambled to get up but felt stuck below waist. He looked down in horror to find that his cock was still buried deeply inside Dean’s ass. With trembling fingers he pulled himself out slowly. Dean's hole looked puffy and abused. White liquid that Sam suspiciously guessed was his come trickled out of it making his head spin with guilt and shame.

"Oh God! Dean, I'm so sorry!

%%%

The smell of smoke, sweat and cheap beer swirled around the room. The ancient jukebox in the corner in front of the bathroom door played an old, unpopular country song about a dead dog and a lost girlfriend, too loud. . Sam had spent the majority of his nights in the last two weeks sitting right there on that bar stool getting trashed and tonight was no different. The bartender was a large man in his forties with a bushy beard and moustache that contradicted his gleaming bald head. He spared Sam a grunt when the younger man took a seat on his usual stool before pushing a glass of beer across the table for Sam, sloshing the content along the way. Sam drank the yellowish liquid gratefully, ready to drown himself once again in haze and dizziness, numbing the painful tug of self humiliation and guilt that seemed to eat him away from the inside. Even the pounding headache that he’d get the following morning was better than that. Anything was better than that.

Sam had not stopped thinking about the reasons why he’d done it. Why would he even think of doing that to Dean in the first place? Perhaps, that was the problem. Perhaps, he was not thinking. He wanted to blame the curse, the connection between them that grew stronger and stronger every day. Even now, he could feel it thrumming steadily beneath his skin. The pull that he used to feel constricting his chest was now encompassing his whole body. Yet, he still could not understand why it was so easy for him to succumb to the temptation. Sam always prided himself on control. To counter Dean’s reckless impulsiveness, Sam always set himself up as the voice of reason He was the one who handled research better. He was the one who mapped their route from danger to safety. He was the one who bitch-faced at Dean whenever his big brother’s childishness recurred.

Thinking was overrated at this point because it only succeeded in giving Sam a headache. No, the best way was to stay away from Dean, as far as he could go, which was to the seedy bar across town. He had tried to drive out of town, the night after it happened, the sinful act of him raping his helpless brother. God! Just thinking of it made Sam’s stomach churn. Tried was the operative word here because he did not get farther than a couple of miles from the next town’s marker before he had to turn back.

If Sam wanted to be honest, it was not the increasing flare of pain that spread from his chest through his entire body as his heart and insides felt like they were being getting ripped out of him that made him hit the brakes. He preferred to think it was because he could not leave Dean alone in that vulnerable state. He did not even let Bobby take care of him and now he was going to abandon him just like that, leaving him to the demons? Sam could not be that cruel.

Sam was the runner in the family. He was the one who always ran away whenever there was conflict in the family. Whenever a hit came, he would need time and space on his own to be able to digest it undistracted before he decided to fight against or come to terms and be at peace with himself. He did not have Dean’s unwavering fortitude in receiving hit after hit that hadn’t stopped coming ever since he was a child; his ability to swallow all of the problems that came their way, no matter how bad or ugly they were, only to shove them into the seemingly bottomless abyss in his mind, resolved or  unresolved. Sam was a thinker. He needed to think, to assimilate, to plot his way through life. He was not made for impulse reactions. Perhaps, that was why he and Dean were a good team. They complemented each other. If they were not spending their time annoying each other to death, that was.

As it was, this time too would have been an ideal time to run away and just think; to mull things over in his head. Yet, he could not do that without jeopardizing Dean’s safety. So, the least he could do was to drown himself and his brain in the fuzzy buzz of alcohol if only to get a bit of peace without the looming presence of the irresistible pull. Sadly even the strongest alcohol he could find there couldn’t numb the pain and guilt that he felt, at least not completely. Death would be a small mercy.

“Well, hello there?”

A sultry voice purred next to his ear breaking into the buzz that had started to accumulate in his brain. Sam turned his head slowly to his right, finding a cute face with short dark hair smiling shyly at him. The innocent expression on the girl’s face was belied by her sultry, seductive tone that shocked Sam somewhat.  

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your serious conversation with the beer glass there but … I just thought you’d love some company,” said the sultry voice as the owner added another shy smile at the end of her sentence. “I can go if you want.”

“No!” Sam was startled by the snappy tone of his own voice before softening it to a low rumble. “I mean, you can stay. But I can’t guarantee that I’ll be good company.”

The cute girl chuckled. “It’s okay. I can see your important discussion has not quite finished, yet,” said the girl with her chin tilted towards Sam’s beer glass.

“Oh,” Sam blushed. “It was more one sided actually. Not that it could react to my whining.”

“I see… lover problem?”

“What?!” Sam jerked his head at her, surprised at her insight.

“Sorry, it’s just that you look like a kicked puppy that’s lost its owner,” said the girl with a blush on her cheeks, Sam wasn’t sure if it was caused by her embarrassment or the drinks she consumed. “But, like they say, misery loves company.” The girl hopped on the stool next to Sam offering the him a friendly smile. She was petite and slender but with lovely curves that were shown off perfectly by her red tank top and tight blue jeans.

“I don’t want you to be miserable with me.”

“Nonsense! I’m told I have a knack for lifting peoples’ spirits. I’m a joy to be around.”

“I dunno. Don’t think anyone could. It’s … it’s complicated.”

“Let’s not talk about it then if it’s too complicated. Let’s just enjoy the night and talk about something else.”

Sam thought, why not? It would be a welcome distraction and if something happened between them later in the evening, it wouldn’t be a problem. They were two consenting adults who just wanted to have a good time. Maybe she could get rid of Sam’s unhealthy obsession towards Dean. Maybe if he could just let loose and unwind and have some fun it would satisfy his sinful urges. Dean always said that he was wound too tight.  He convinced himself that he needed it so that he could be of sound mind in taking care of his brother and focusing on the research.

Not an hour later, Sam found himself being pushed through the door of a small apartment, lips fussed together with the girl’s, who’d introduced herself as Jean. He couldn’t remember much about getting from the bar to the apartment besides Jean’s eagerness. They were stripping each other’s clothes off as they stumbled from the front door to the bedroom and had got each other naked before they’d even reached it.

“So, how adventurous are you, Jean?” gasped Sam, mouthing Jean’s neck, sucking bruises on her pale skin.

“Very,” answered Jean with a moan as she rubbed her lithe body along Sam’s muscled side before swaying her way backwards into her small bedroom. Sam followed her drunkenly. The alcohol that he’d consumed that night started to affect his brain. Dean always mocked him for being a lightweight saying that he could get drunk from only a couple of glasses of whiskey.

Sam grabbed her waist and dove for her lips, pressing the back of her head to keep their lips glued together in a bruising kiss. She cried out when Sam bit her bottom lips hard enough to draw blood. Sam thought she would kick him out when she looked at him questioningly but then a smirk pulled at her lips before she hooked her leg around his ankle and tripped him over. With his balance disturbed, Sam had no choice but to follow the pull of her arms around his neck as they tumbled onto the bed.

Sam landed on top of Jean with an ‘ufh’ as she giggled underneath him. “You’re feisty,” said Sam smiling at her. She planted  one foot on the bed and pushed  Sam’s waist with her knee flipping them over  until their positions were reversed and she was on top. Sam lay on the bed looking wide eyed. “…and strong for a girl.”

Jean smiled down at him, looking proud with herself. “I’m a black belt actually,” she said. Then, she hastily added when Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. I just think you seem to like rough sex. I just wanna say that I can take it. I’m not as delicate as I appear to be.” She punctuated her last words by grinding her tight ass down onto Sam’s cock, hardening it as Sam groaned in pleasure.

She was not lying when she said she could take it hard and rough. There was not much foreplay between them. Sam had barely rolled the condom on his cock before she’d grabbed him and impaled herself on it. She rode him hard and fast  bouncing on his cock like she was possessed while Sam busied his mouth by sucking on her pert breasts.

Sam threw her on her back and lifted  her leg thrusting into her hard as her moans and cries filled the bedroom.

“Ooh … yes! Oh harder, Sam! … Aaahh…”

Jean’s body was taut and she lifted her chest off the bed. She screamed louder and louder as she was nearing her peak and her walls clamped tight around Sam’s still hard cock. Sweat pooled between her breasts, dripping down her neck inviting Sam to lick it. As Sam bent down to do just that, her features seemed to morph into someone else. Her pert breasts hardened into a flat muscled chest and rivulets of sweat trailed down freckled skin and his heart skipped. Sam blinked and the image was gone as well as the tightened pull in his chest.

She moaned loudly as she came down from her peak, panting for breath but Sam kept pushing into her with punishing force, chasing for his own climax. Sam lifted her up and she immediately looped her arms around him, kissing his mouth and lifting herself up and down on his lap.

“Wait,” Sam whispered as Jean licked the skin behind his ear. Sam stilled her movements, holding her hips with both hands.

“What?” Jean looked at him dazedly, still in the aftermath of her orgasm. Sam looked down, feeling shy and embarrassed all of a sudden. She must have felt that he was still hard inside her. He could not look at her in the eye, so he hid his face on her shoulder.

“I … I can’t. I … I need more.”

Sam never thought that she would agree when Sam tentatively ran his finger around her puckered anus but her soft ‘okay’ released some of the tension in his body. Then she leaned away to reach the top drawer of her bedside table. Sam let her go. His hard cock jutting up on his lap, curling towards his belly an angry red color. Jean returned with a small bottle of lube in her hands and she handed it to Sam before laying back on the bed, legs spread wide.

“I’m sure you know how to do it” she said, looking at the lube in Sam’s hand pointedly.

Sam got her point and quickly uncapped the bottle to squirt some of the cool gel on his fingers. He reached for her hole, coating the skin around her pink puckered hole with the cool substance. She jerked slightly and Sam froze.

“It’s okay,” she quickly assured. “Just surprised with the coolness, you know. Been a while since someone tried this with me, but I’m okay. Go on!”

After receiving assurance from her, Sam continued his ministrations, putting more lube on his fingers before inserting his middle finger. Jean kept her gaze on the ceiling while Sam worked her open with only occasional grunts and small moans slipping past her lips. The lube made it easier and soon she was pushing down on his fingers before urging him to fill her up with his cock.

%%%

Sam lay on the bed next to Jean’s sleeping form, contemplating what he had just done. She had come twice that night and he wasn’t surprised that she was exhausted. Having anal sex with her was not that much different to the vaginal sex. Sure, there was the excitement of trying something new and it had been good, he had to admit. A little bit awkward but good. But Sam remembered that there had been no awkwardness when he’d fucked Dean raw. Like it was something he was supposed to do and had been denied for too long. It was disturbing.

Sam went home that night with his nerve endings prickling oddly as if there were thousands of ants crawling under his skin. She had left Jean after saying goodbye to her. She woke up after Sam finished dressing, asking him to call her later. Sam said he would but he knew that he wouldn’t. Sam thought she must have known that too because she watched him leave her place with a fond but resigned look in her eyes. The prickling made him feel so uncomfortable that he could not wait to get home. Once he entered the house, he immediately locked the door and checked the salt line and protection around the house before jumping under the shower. He scrubbed his skin until the prickly feeling was gone. Then, he put on his sweat pants and sweater and went to his office to sleep on the lumpy couch in the corner where he’d spent his nights ever since ‘the’ incident. He would not dare sleep beside Dean again. He wouldn’t even go near the bedroom because he couldn’t look at Dean without guilt stabbing him in the chest. So, he’d avoided him all together these past couple of weeks.

###

Sam was lounging in a corner booth of a bar one night, on his way to getting drunk. It was past midnight and he knew he was supposed to go home an hour ago but he could not make himself go. Not that he did not want to go home because his heart, his body and all of his nerves were gearing to leave this place and head home, back to Dean. But he couldn’t do it. Just that morning, when he’d gone to check on Dean after making breakfast, he’d been overcome by the feeling of want and need. He’d managed to turn Dean over onto his side and massage his back for a few seconds before he found his lips devouring Dean’s lips. He tore himself away forcefully, knocking the lamp off the bedside table in the process. He’d pressed his back to the wall, wide eyed and panting hard; heart thumping against his ribcage, threatening to jump out. He’d sprinted out of the bedroom and out of the cabin in seconds. He’d locked the door then gunned the Impala away, putting as much distance as he could between them. That was why he was here, in this seedy bar right on the outskirts of the next town. The farthest he could get without feeling like his insides were being ripped out of him.

Sam had thought that by having sex with a girl, Jean, he could dampen down, if not get rid of, the nagging want that was constantly raging inside him. But it turned out, it didn’t work that way. Sam knew logically that it was the curse. The pull that he had felt ever since he’d cursed Dean and that had gradually strengthened over time had stripped off his inhibitions. He’d always thought that his love for Dean was unique and that he would never love anybody else the same way. He didn’t even love his father the same way and he didn’t have any other family to compare. But even if he did, he doubted he would feel the same way about them.  He was sure that Dean knew and he didn’t doubt that Dean too felt the same. It was intense and deep and not the kind of love that other people would understand. For Dean, he would do anything but he doubted that Dean would want this. Sam did not regret casting the curse because it had bought them time and had saved Dean from hell. Yet, he hadn’t anticipated this side effect of the curse and he was afraid that Dean would never forgive him of his actions. Dean had always been a good brother to Sam, always sacrificed anything for Sam, but this thing, this… sex … thing was the only taboo that they had not dared to cross. Sam was sure that he had done an unforgivable thing and he was sure that Dean would hate him for it. Hell, Sam even hated himself at the moment.

Sam nursed his beer and inwardly cursed himself. Sometimes, he cursed his over thinking brain. In a spark of brilliance, his brain came up with an experiment. Since he had had anal sex with a girl, why not try it with a guy. Perhaps he was bi and that was why he could not resist that sinful temptation. It could be his inner gay trying to rebel because it had been suppressed for too long a time. Dean was just conveniently within the vicinity, which made him sound like a victim. This thought really did not ease Sam’s guilt at all.

Sam gritted his jaw and raked his fingers though his messy hair, futilely trying to distract his mind from the thought of Dean and his guilt. There was a ruckus happening at the pool table just a few feet away from Sam’s booth where a game had been going on for the past hour. The players were two big biker guys who seemed to be buddies against a shorter man about Sam’s age. The biker guys were making a lot of noise and were getting rowdier the longer they played. They taunted the shorter guy with slurs and insults and their loud voices had gotten Sam’s attention. and He indulged himself in the distraction, happy to have something to temporarily engage his mind. These two guys seemed to be deliberately looking for trouble.

Sam chanced a look at the bar and saw that the bartender was in a deep conversation with someone and the other patrons, the few there were, just didn’t seem to care. Sam saw the blond guy took a shot and miss. The two bikers laughed boisterously; words like twink and pansy were thrown around the table. Sam frowned at that because he noticed that although the other guy was shorter, he was not small and definitely did not look effeminate. Besides, Sam could be wrong, but when the shorter guy had turned around to circle the table, just for few seconds, Sam saw there was a familiar glint in his eyes and a playful smirk briefly graced his lips before it was gone as he’d turned back facing the table and his two opponents. Now, he just looked worried and a bit upset.

Sam could spot a hustler when he saw one. Although, he was sure that Dean was better at disguising it.

Not long after, the shouting escalated. One of the bikers was suddenly cornering the shorter man with blond hair, pushing him back into the wall. Sam watched as the guy fought back only to get punched in the gut. While the guy was doubled over clutching his stomach, the two bikers turned around to leave and Sam thought the fight was over but he was surprised when the guy suddenly launched himself at one of the biker’s backs, sending both of them sprawling onto the floor. The other biker quickly helped by grabbing the shorter man’s hair to get him off his friend’s back. Sam did not know what force had made him leave his booth but before he’d realized it, he was already in the middle of the brawl, trading punch for punch with them.  

###

Thousands of needles stabbed into his brain through his eyes the moment Sam tried to open them. The left one felt swollen and his mouth felt like an ashtray. His head was pounding as if there were ten five years old playing drums in there. He heard a groan and realized it had come from his mouth. A chuckle was heard nearby. The voice was deep and sounded so amused that for a moment he thought he’d heard Dean and his heart jumped up to his throat. But, the next second he jumped back for real when suddenly something cold was dumped on his bruised eye. Another chuckle was heard next to his left ear.

“It’s just ice. For your eye,” said the same voice, very close to his ear.

Sam chanced to open his right eye slowly, squinting he spotted the  blurry shape of a guy or at least he thought it was a guy, beside him. He blinked several times until the blurriness cleared and he saw a smiling man sat on a table next to him. He was lying on some kind of a soft couch.  He groaned painfully as he pushed his elbow under his body in an effort to get up.

“Ughh… not to sound rude or anything … but, who’re you?” asked Sam scrunching up his eyes to focus on the man before looking about the room. “And where am I?”

“I guess you were too drunk to remember what happened last night. Or, rather, this morning,” said the man who Sam had not yet put a name to.  Then, he chuckled again. “Man, were you just dumb or plain suicidal?”

“What?” Sam slumped into the couch, laying his head on the backrest and holding the ice bag on his eye.

The man smirked at him. Sam noticed it was the guy from the pool table. Sam looked at him more closely as he was replaying his memories of the night before. This close, even he had to admit that the guy did have soft feature for a man that made him look pretty instead of handsome. With pale skin, thick lips and neat brown eyebrows curving above almond shaped green eyes. No wonder those bikers had teased him . There was a bruise on his left jaw that made his smirk a bit lopsided but even that did not make his face less attractive.

“The bartender had already drawn his shotgun and threatened those bikers but then you opened your mouth and insulted them. Got a blow to the eye for that.”

“Ughh…” Sam groaned again and the other man just sniggered in amusement. “Who are you, anyway?”

The other man held out his hand, still with the smirk on his lips. “Eric Dane.”

Sam shook Eric’s hand. “Sam … Winchester.”

“So, Sam Winchester, never seen you around before. And I frequent that bar quite often.”

“Yeah, I’m just … passing through.”

“Oh…” Eric nodded his head before standing up and going over to the corner of the room where there was a small kitchenette. “Well, I guess I need to thank you for helping me out. Some people don’t take too well to loosing.”

Sam smiled knowingly. “You were hustling them.” It was not a question.

Eric turned back around after rummaging in his small fridge. He threw a bottle of cold drink to Sam. “Chamomile tea, my grandma’s recipe, and this…” he sat next to Sam on the couch, dropping a brown paper bag in Sam’s lap.

Sam opened the bag curiously then promptly laughed when he saw the contents. “Really? Big Mac?”

Eric shrugged. “Hey, just trying to help. Besides, you should be grateful I didn’t leave you there.”

Sam was still laughing when he tore into the burger, remembering that Dean also brought him the same thing when he had a hangover. Sam tried the tea and it seemed to work wonders on lessening his headache and calming stomach. Eric just sat there beside him, seemingly content just to watch Sam. He did not speak again until after Sam finished the burger and drank half the bottle of tea.

“Feeling better?” asked Eric.

“Yeah, very much better. Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a pause for few moments and Sam started to feel uncomfortable. He probably should excuse himself before things got any more awkward but Eric beat him to it.

“Soooo…,” Eric drawled. “You mind telling me where you’re going?”

“Uh…” Sam frowned, out of the loop somewhat since his head still felt a tad scrambled.

“You said you were just passing through,” supplied Eric helpfully as he raised his eyebrows at Sam.

“Yeah, yeah … I was… I was just on my way.” Sam stood slowly, putting the empty bag and the tea bottle on the table before standing up and smiling gratefully at Eric. “I guess I’ll see myself out.”  

“Not that I meant to throw you out,” Eric added hastily, “you’re welcome to stay for as long as you want. I mean, I’d love the company. God knows I would.”

“It’s okay, really. Thank you for the food and … tea. I should be going.”

“Oh … Don’t mention it.”

Sam might have imagined it, but he thought he saw Eric’s lips turn downwards before he looked away and stood in front of Sam. Then, he was smiling widely again as he followed him to the door. “Well, I’d like to say ‘see you around’ but you’ll probably have put this town in your rearview mirror before noon and there’s no chance you’ll be passing through a second time.”

Sam had to laugh at that. Somehow, this guy’s blunt sarcasm did not put him off. Instead, it kind of brought up nostalgic feelings and with that, a twinge of pull in his chest.

“What? What’s so funny?” asked Eric, looking up at Sam as innocent confusion spread on his face.

Sam could not stop laughing even when he felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “You!” said Sam, blinking rapidly to chase away the potentially embarrassing tears.

“You have a weird taste of humor, you know that?” said Eric deadpanned.

“I guess I do,” replied Sam, still amused.

“You sure, you’re okay?” Eric asked as he assessed Sam with concern. “You still look kinda pale, man. Sure you don’t wanna stay for lunch at least? I mean, I don’t cook but I can order pizza or something.”

Sam felt the dilemma. He really didn’t want to go if only to return to the cabin. That would mean putting Dean in a danger from him. But he also didn’t want to impose and take advantage of Eric’s hospitality. He could just drive around town or go to another bar and be miserable alone, but, on the other hand, he really could use Eric’s company.

“I really don’t want to impose…” Sam started but Eric waved off his concerns and rolled his eyes.

“You’re not imposing. I’d feel much better if you left here in better condition or at least without a hangover. Damn! Did you drink a whole keg last night?”

Eric led Sam back to the couch while he picked up his phone and dialed.  Sam laid back down to rest his heavy head and spied a neat row of books under the table. Curiosity got the better of him and he reached out for one of the thick books and read the title. He opened the pages and skimmed a bit before the small letters became blurry and his head began to swim. The headache had not entirely gone although Eric’s chamomile had helped to lighten it a bit.

“You’re interested in cars?” asked Sam as he put the book on the table and skimmed the rest of the book titles.

“I’m a mechanic actually or I will be in the next couple of months after I complete my exams. Then, I can get a decent job, perhaps in one of the workshops in Sioux Falls.”

Then, someone on the other line picked up the call and Eric turned his attention to them leaving Sam to his headache. Eric seemed to know the person who had picked up his phone because he spent some times chatting with them before even putting in his order. Sam thought he could use the time while they waited for the food to get some  shut eye, hoping that his headache would have gone the next time he opened his eyes.

@@@

“You feel better?”

“Yeah, and … thanks.” Sam lifted up the take out box of noodles in his hand.

Eric was cleaning up the kitchen counter with a white cloth. Then he approached Sam as he put down the box. “You done?” He grabbed the box and cleaned up after Sam much to his protest but the smaller guy just forced him down to sit down on the couch.

“I can help,” offered Sam.

“No, no… you just sit there and relax. I can do it. It’s nothing, trust me. After all it’s my home. I am used to doing it by myself.”

“But I’ve given you so much trouble already,” protested Sam but it fell on deaf ears as Eric ignored him. He chucked the trash in the bin and talked to Sam about something else instead.

“Hey, uh… sorry I did not give you this yesterday. I guess I just forgot,” Eric reached into his pocket then pulled out a pair of keys and threw them out to Sam.

“Oh!” Sam started as he recognized the keys. “You brought along the Impala.”

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. Since, I assumed you weren’t from around here, so I thought you must have had a car or something. Found those keys in your pocket. Awesome car by the way. Gotta admit, you have good taste Sam,” said Eric from where he was crouched down in front of his open refrigerator.

“Thanks, but … it’s not my car actually,” answered Sam in a subdued voice.

Eric walked back to the couch and flopped down beside Sam throwing him a cold ginger ale. Sam read the label and raised an eyebrow at Eric. The smaller man just smiled innocently at him as he opened his own can and took a sip.

“Don’t really like drinking beer or any alcohol, so I never have any at home. If I want to get drunk or drink beers I’ll go to a bar,” said Eric casually.

“Huh. Is that also the reason why you always have chamomile tea ready in your fridge?”

“Hey, I like my chamomile tea,” defended Eric. He lifted up both his legs onto the couch and held them close to his chest with both arms wrapped around his knees. “Being drunk makes me do stupid things,” Eric said in a soft voice that Sam thought sounded sad.

“People always do stupid things when they’re drunk,” said Sam, aiming for nonchalant.

“They can also do bad and dangerous things. Like hurting people they love.”

From the way Eric said it, Sam thought he must have had a bad personal experience; could be someone in his family or his boyfriend. Yes, Sam had a strong feeling that Eric was gay. Aside from his delicate features, his mannerisms were a bit girly.. The way he was sat on the couch was the opposite of manly. Sam hadn’t noticed these mannerisms when they were at the bar, though. It could be because Eric wanted to play a game there, so he could hustle convincingly.

“I am sorry,” blurted out Sam suddenly. “You don’t have to talk about it. I-”

“It’s okay. I never have anyone to talk to really. I guess since you probably won’t be here for much longer I can talk to you without feeling like I’m being judged.”

Sam nodded back slowly, contemplating the merit of that statement. “That could work,” he said after a while.

“It was one of the reasons why I ran away from home. My dad’s a sadistic bastard when he’s drunk. As the only son of five children, my dad expects too much of me. When he found out that I’m not what he’s expected, he was furious. He’s embarrassed that his only son is gay. He’s always been a heavy drinker and when he’s drunk he vents his anger and disappointment on me, or my body, I guess.”

That made Sam gasp and look at Eric closely. “Did he, did he …” He gestured weakly, waving his hand at Eric but the guy understood, thankfully.

“No! Not like that,” said Eric hurriedly. “Just beatings and yelling mostly. After I graduated from high school I ran away. He never treats my sisters like that, though. I guess he’s kinda accepted that they’re girls but I’m a guy. So, he thinks I should behave like one. That means less sucking cock and more fucking pussies,” Eric snorted at that.

“You know, Eric. You shouldn’t have to be someone you’re not. You can have the life you want if you work hard enough to achieve it.”

“I know that. That’s why I’m here,” said Eric, smiling at Sam and shifting in his seat. He turned sideways, facing Sam and curling up. He looked so eager, it was so cute that Sam just couldn’t help but smile back. “I always wanted to be a mechanic, you know. It’s just … cars, especially classic cars just fascinate me. After I finished my course I’ll find a decent job and save some money. I like the idea of going to the beach,” he confessed with a giggle. “What do you think of California?”

“It’s good, I guess.” Then, Sam felt the urge to confess to. “I went to Stanford a while back.”

“Really?” Eric’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Wow! That’s so awesome, man. You must be doing well, now.”

Sam shifted in his seat. “Well, I was kinda dropped out and joined the family business.”

“You regret it?”

“I didn’t really have a choice at the time.” Sam took a deep breath before continuing, “Things were going well, and then suddenly it was all blown to smithereens, literally.”

“But you can always go back, right?”

“No. I don’t think I can even if I want to. There are unresolved issues and I don’t know when they’ll be sorted.”

“Does it have to do with the awesome car outside?”

Sam frowned. “How did you-”

“When you said the car’s not yours, you looked so sad. Like someone it belonged to was very dear to you and you … I don’t know, lost him somehow?”

“Are you always this intuitive?”

“Perks of being gay, I guess.”

“Seriously?”

“No.”    

Sam stared at Eric for a few seconds longer but Eric’s face remained impassive. Then, Sam smiled indulgently at him. “Man, you’re … not like I thought you’d be.”

“What did you think I’d be like?” asked Eric. His eyes looked a bit guarded and Sam understood immediately.  He was someone who had been told that he was unworthy and unloved; he had spent his younger years struggling with his own identity and questioning his self worth. But now, seeing him in this apartment making a life of his own and taking control, Sam couldn’t help but admire this man’s strength.

“You’re a strong man, Eric. Be proud of yourself,” said Sam in a soft tone.

“I am,” Eric replied with strong conviction and for few seconds they sat there, staring at each other.

There was a glint of something in Eric’s green eyes as he bit his lips but before Sam could decipher it, he had his lap full of Eric who was nipping away at his mouth. For a split second he thought about shoving him away but something made him change his mind. Instead, he just closed his eyes and rode it, he’d let Eric devour his lips to his heart content and see where it led them. He draped his hands over Eric’s hips and moved his legs apart to make it easier for Eric to grind his pelvis onto Sam’s. Eric was clearly hard and Sam liked to think he was getting there what with the friction the movement produced.

Sam’s treacherous mind chose that moment to recall what had happened in Dean’s bedroom the previous morning. He could remember the taste of Dean’s lips, the hardness of his body and the earthy smell of his skin. All of them made him wanted to punish himself as guilt and shame came flooding in. Here, in this tiny apartment Sam desperately drowned himself in Eric. He wanted to feel his skin, to smell him, to taste him, to get lost in him. Anything to keep his mind off Dean.

But the pain lingered.

Eric was shoving his hand inside Sam’s open jeans and was in the middle of his second slow stroke when what felt like a sharp pointy hook tugged at his heartstrings and made him choke on his breath. He opened his mouth and gasped. Eric, oblivious to Sam’s dilemma, delved in eagerly. Sam tried to concentrate on what Eric was doing, to feel the pleasure in it. So what if he never done it with a guy before? That  hadn’t stopped him from molesting his brother.

Sam hoped it was just a phase. A flux brought on by the stress and anxiety of Dean’s condition that could be washed away by a couple of bouts of good sex. And if sex with a guy was the way to do it, then so be it.

A throaty groan slipped out of Sam as Eric licked his neck and sucked the skin above his collarbone. Eric had somehow opened his own jeans and was stroking both their cock together. The friction on his cock and the sucking on his neck heightened his pleasure and almost drowned the pain in his chest. Sam pulled on Eric’s short hair eliciting a moan from him before fussing their lips. He licked his way inside Eric’s mouth, tongues exploring, tangling in a wet dance, teeth biting and Sam’s cock jumped when Eric let out a breathy moan as Sam sucked his bottom lip. Lips that was so full and pink.

Sam’s hands slipped inside Eric’s shirt and rubbed his smooth back. The loosened jeans made it easier for Sam’s fingers to slip inside and palm his pert butt, pulling them closer and trapping their hard leaking cocks between their stomachs.

“Oh, Sam… Sam...”

Eric kept moaning Sam’s name like a mantra as he quickened his strokes on their cocks. He pulled and tugged faster and faster until Sam was left panting. His hands squeezed Eric’s butt and his mouth attacked Eric’s with abandon. Grunts and moan filled the room. Sam felt as if the dull tug in his chest was competing with the low pressure of his lower belly both demanding release that made Sam throw his head back on the couch and scream to the ceiling. He distinctly felt warmness coating his stomach and a few seconds later felt Eric’s lips pepper his neck with small kisses.

Sam thought he’d had his release because he felt spent. The pressure in his lower belly was gone, yet the tug in his chest remained. It had lessened in intensity, though. He closed his eyes to regain his composure and his breath as Eric leaned back presumably to tug himself in. Sam’s fingers were still wrapped around his narrow waist and he felt his muscles tense. He rubbed his back some more to sooth him.

“Damnit! Sam. You sure are packing!” praised Eric.

Sam tried not to blush. Despite the fact that he was actually proud of it, he’d never been comfortable when anyone complimented him on that part of his anatomy. Dean might call him prude but Sam was just shy. He lifted his head back up to look at Eric and promptly threw him on the floor.

“Holy Shit!” screamed Sam in shock.

“Ouch! Sam, you’re so mean!”

Eric sprawled on the floor with his jean’s fly half open, sending Sam a hurt look … with cold black eyes. Sam scrambled off the couch and jumped a couple of steps backwards, hands busily tucking himself inside his jeans and pulling his zipper closed.

Eric or rather the demon inside Eric tilted his head, regarding Sam with a calculating look.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sam. Do you know how difficult it has been to locate you? With so many of Lilith’s goons combing the country as we speak I was lucky that I was around this neighborhood at the right time to find you,” he told Sam in a cold dead tone.

Sam frowned when as he was trying to identify the demon. “Ruby?”

Eric or rather Ruby rolled his eyes. He got up from the floor, uncaring of his state of undress and stood calmly in front of a wary Sam.

“How long have you been inside of him?” asked Sam as he eyed him distrustfully.

“Not long. Why?” asked Ruby back at him. “Is it bothering you that you were possibly making out with a demon?” teased Ruby with a smirk. It looked so attractive on Eric’s face but also so disturbing because he was not Eric anymore. Sam was not even sure when Eric had been Eric and when he’d become Ruby in disguise. Was it so wrong to make out with a demon when Sam had already raped his brother?

Sam refused to answer that.

“I need to warn you about Lilith.”

“What about her?”

“She’s building an army. Since she couldn’t find Dean’s soul she changed her tactics to break all the seals around the world,” said Ruby.

“Seals? What seals? And what for?”

“To free Lucifer.”

“What?!”

Sam was so taken aback that he took a couple more steps backwards closer to the door. That sounded so wrong even in his ears. Not that Sam did not believe, but even he would bet that Lucifer was not your average monster. And if it was true that Lilith was trying to let him free to roam the earth…

“…it’s the Apocalypse,” breathed Sam, horrified.

“Damn straight!” said Ruby, folding his arms on his chest seemingly pleased that Sam had started to read from the same page as him.

Sam frowned at Ruby’s choice of words.

“So, you in?” asked Ruby again but when Sam didn’t answer she pursued it. “She’s not interested in finding Dean’s soul anymore. You can mourn your brother’s death all you want, Sam but there won’t be anyone left in the world if Lilith succeeds. I offer you a way to defeat Lilith, to avenge Dean’s death, to-”

“Stop it!” yelled Sam. He pointed a finger at Ruby to warn him. “Don’t you dare talk about Dean, you hear me? So what if Lilith wants to destroy the world? Will it bring my brother back?”

The pain in his chest flared into a sharp ripping pull. Ruby stepped closer to Sam but Sam took another step back holding his hand in front of him while his other hand rubbed his chest.  

“Don’t come any closer!”  

Ruby looked at him, eyes following the way Sam’s hand was rubbing his chest and just in time to catch Sam’s eyes as he winced. “What’s wrong with your chest?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” snapped Sam.

“You know, I’ve been way too nice with you, Sam. Perhaps you don’t realize how important this matter is-”

“You’re right! I don’t… and I don’t care.”

“…but Sam-”

“Enough! I am out of here and you’d better be out of that body soon or I’ll stop being nice to you and send you crawling back to hell!”

Sam did not let Ruby answer him, just reached behind him and grasped the door handle and ripped it open. He hurriedly closed it behind him and left the apartment building. He hoped that Eric would be okay. He kind of liked the guy but then again he did not know how long Ruby had possessed him. He could have been Ruby the whole time for all he knew. He vaguely wondered why Ruby did not just kill him in his defenseless state.

His thoughts immediately focused on Dean and his defenseless state, alone at the cabin house. He regretted not having left Eric’s house in the first place. If only he knew if Ruby could find him. Sam found the Impala parked just outside the building and high-tailed it out of there, praying that Ruby did not follow him.

 

 


	7. Epilogue: Call for Endymion, for That is My Name

**Epilogue: Call for Endymion, for That is My Name**

When Sam got to the house he saw Bobby’s truck parked in front of the front door. He parked the Impala beside it and stepped out of the car with a frown. He knew Bobby never visited without a call first so he patted his pocket for his phone. His stomach sank when he couldn’t find it. In a split second he thought he had left it at Eric’s apartment but then he remembered the way he’d left the house yesterday. In the state that he was in, it was possible that he’d left it there.

When Sam opened the door, he was ambushed by an irate hunter seconds away from punching his face. Sam thought he deserved it.

“Where the hell have you been, you Idjit?!” was Bobby’s greeting to Sam. “I’ve been calling your number since last night. How long have you been gone, Sam?”

“Yesterday morning,” answered Sam in a resigned tone. He could understand why Bobby was mad. He knew Bobby would be furious. He’d left his phone somewhere in the house when he’d ran out yesterday without as much as texting Bobby where he was going, although he always told Bobby whenever he left the house just in case something happened to him and no one would tend to Dean. “I, I guess I left in a hurry and left my phone on the table or somewhere.”

Bobby huffed in irritation. “And what’s so important that it made you leave in such a hurry?”

Well, Sam could not really tell Bobby that he had molested Dean could he? So, he quickly schooled his face as he trotted along behind Bobby’s back into the living room.

“So, Bobby, what brings you here?”

Bobby turned to him and raised his eyebrows. So much for the poker face. Bobby could see right through him but he was glad when the older hunter just huffed and answered him. “Got the spare part for the Impala that I promised you last week. The noise still there?” 

“Yeah and I’ve tried to look under the hood but couldn’t find the problem.” Sam heaved a sigh as he wandered to his desk looking for his phone.

Bobby’s attention was drawn to a spell book that Sam had unearthed from the pile of papers on his much cluttered desk. He picked it up and brought it to the couch as he muttered, “Better bring the car back to my garage and give her a thorough check.”

“Yeah sure, Bobby. You know the best,” Sam told him. He only glanced at him briefly before resuming his search. When he couldn’t find it, he went to the kitchen and finally found the phone on top of the counter where he’d put it to unload the laundry after talking to Nora yesterday.  

There were fifteen miscalled and three messages, all from Bobby. He quickly deleted them.

“How’s the progress on the curse? Find anything, yet?” Bobby called out from the living room.

Sam walked back to the living room and put his phone in his jean’s pocket. “Uh, Well, Nora has a theory. She’s working on identifying the elements in the ingredients for the original spells and comparing them to the altered spell. I’ve sent her the full translation of the whole script and we’re working on it.” He noticed Bobby had occupied the worn couch again, so he leaned his hip on the side of the table.

Bobby made a noncommittal grunt to acknowledge Sam’s words while his eyes were still glued to the pages of the book in his hand. “Unlike any other spell we’ve encountered, this one sounds like a poem to me and the list of the ingredients were dotted about in the verse as part of the spell itself,” noted Bobby.

“That’s what I thought too. Nora sent me that book for comparison but the spells in there are very different in structure than the Endymion spells. After I sent her the full translation of the spell and the script, she agreed with me and said the elements of each ingredient represented in the spell play an important part in the structure and construction of the spell itself. We’re hoping that we’ll be able to create the reversal spell by following the same structure as the Endymion spell.” Sam took a long deep breath before continuing, “Never thought that witchcraft would be this hard.”

“This isn’t ordinary stuff used by witches who usually get their spells straight from books and scripts. What we’re doing here is spell creation, or spell alteration seeing as we have the original reversal spell in hand. It’s high level magic.”

Sam nodded his head mutely as his mind was already on the spell. Bobby closed the book and rose up from the couch. “Have you tried to summon the cherub again?”

Bobby’s question made the gears inside Sam’s head grind to a halt. After his failed attempt at summoning the cherub after they’d found out about Dean’s soul escaping Hell, he’d never thought about it again. He wondered what Bobby was up to by suggesting it now.

“I don’t think that’s necessary seeing as she didn’t help me with anything related to the spell. And, she didn’t show up when I summoned her the second time, why do you think she would show up now?”

“I dunno. Just making a suggestion seeing as she’s the only magical creature that seems harmless. Who knows, maybe she knows a thing or two about a spell for bonding souls,” said Bobby as he stood in front of Sam, thrusting out his hand, palm up.

Sam frowned, looking up and down from Bobby’s hand to his exasperated face. “What?”

“The keys?” said Bobby pointedly. For a split second Sam thought Bobby had gone mad but then he remembered their previous conversation about the Impala. So, he quickly fished the keys out of his pocket and dropped them into Bobby’s palm.

Bobby snatched the keys with a huff and a roll of his eyes before walking out of the living room. “I’ve left the truck’s keys in the bedroom. Oh, and I’ve checked on Dean and fixed his shirt. What were you thinking leaving his shirt open like that for a whole night with no blanket? D’you want him to get pneumonia?”

Sam’s mouth was gaping open and his eyes were wide when he stuttered. “I…I…uh…”

Bobby stopped just short of the front door before turned back around to fully face Sam. “Listen Sam, whatever happens, whether it’s cabin fever or some other shit, at the end of the day, he’s still your brother. You saved him from Hell, Sam. D’you think it matters to him what you did?” asked Bobby softly as he looked at Sam with a keen understanding in his eyes. Sam thought Bobby knew what he’d done with Dean and for the next few minutes his heart beat twice as fast but then Bobby continued. “It’s done. You’ve cast the spell, now you have to finish what you started and find the damn reverse.”

What could Sam say to that other than agreeing with Bobby and nodding his head? He took a deep breath and let it out, huffing. Even if he was sure that what had happened a week ago wasn’t cabin fever. He’d been very much aware of the presence of the pull ever since he’d cast the spell on Dean. He just thought that he would be stronger. He loved Dean, loved him so much. Sam knew that the spell wouldn’t have worked if there hadn’t already been a strong bond between them. It was just that Sam knew that taking Dean without his consent was wrong; No matter whether it was a spell or not. He figured this would be the first thing they’d need to talk about when Dean woke up. When, not if.

“Sure, Bobby!” said Sam with a firm nod.

“Good!”

Bobby then opened the front door and strode over to the Impala. He did not say anything else because there was nothing more to be said. Sam stood on the porch until the Impala turned around the corner of the dirt road leading from the house and he couldn’t see it anymore. Then, he walked back inside and locked the door firmly behind him. He’d got a cherub to summon.

###

Sam was officially screwed.

He was crouching under his desk clamping both hands on his ears. He was sure they were bleeding. The last time he’d summoned the cherub this hadn’t happened. Now, there was a gale of wind buffeting around the room, sending Sam’s papers flying and his paraphernalia was scattered in every direction. The ground was shaking making the wood paneling rattle. Not to mention the ringing. There was this high pitch ringing that blew through Sam’s eardrums. He thought of Dean. He was worried what was happening to him at the other side of the room.

Finally, when the papers stopped flying and the ground stopped shaking; Sam dared to crawl from under the table. His ears were still ringing and felt like they’d been being stuffed with cotton. He looked around the wrecked room and jumped in surprise when his gaze fell on a strange man with a grey coat who stood in the middle of the room looking confused.

What the hell?!!

Sam gasped and hurriedly crawled backwards, head hitting the heel of his overturned chair in the process. He grappled with the chair for few seconds while the strange man was tilting his head to the side looking at him oddly. After hitting his elbow on the chair twice and knocking his head once again, he finally stood up, muscles tensed, ready to fight.

“Who are you?” screamed Sam. He could barely hear his own voice due to the cotton-effect in his ears. The strange man opened his mouth and said something but he couldn’t hear a thing. Sam didn’t dare take his eyes off the strange man but he glanced out of the corner of his eyes frantically trying to spot a usable weapon. If this guy was a cherub then he was one grouchy cherub and he could be dangerous.

The strange man in a grey long coat spoke again but Sam could only hear a garbled noise seemingly from the other side of a ten mile long pipe. In the next blink of an eye, the strange man had disappeared only to reappear right next to Sam touching his finger to Sam’s temple.

Sam scrambled backwards, cursing furiously as he planted his back to the wall. “What the …”

“Sam Winchester. I am an Angel of the Lord. My name is Castiel.”

###

So, Castiel was an angel. Not a cherub or any kind of lesser angel but an angel with capital A. An honest to God, angel of the lord. That was what he’d said. He proved it by fixing Sam’s hearing and he said something about heaven having work for the Winchesters. Whatever the hell that meant.

“The Righteous Man?” asked Sam, bewildered.

“Yes,” answered the angel, Castiel in an emotionless, almost robotic drone of his deep, strong voice. “We were led to believe that your brother was supposed to be the one who fall as was your father but we had not anticipated this turn of events. There was a small ripple in the timeline but the prophecy still managed to be fulfilled.”

“What’re you talking about? What prophecy?”

“I don’t come because of your summons Sam,” said Castiel. “I am here because of your brother’s soul.”

“Do you know where Dean’s soul is?” breathed Sam, full of hope.

“I am sorry, no.”

Sam did not think the angel was sorry at all.

“But I must ask. Did you do something with your brother’s soul?”

Sam thought about lying and he wondered vaguely for a brief moment if an angel could detect lies but he thought better of it. This was a real angel; the only being, except demons of course, who according to Sam’s references could bind souls. Perhaps the angel could help him. So, he decided to take the plunge.

“I might … have done something to Dean’s soul. But I didn’t break any deal,” added Sam quickly. “There were no terms in the contract about what could happen after the soul went to Hell. Dean served his time and he went to Hell right on time, as was stated in the deal.”

“We are aware that Dean’s soul went to Hell and we assumed that he’d remained there all this time. There were rumors about his disappearance but we could not be sure, not until we realized, albeit too late, about Azazel’s real plan.” Castiel turned his face sideways, looking into the distance as if recalling the events in his head. “We laid siege to Hell and I was tasked with retrieving him as fast as possible… but it was too late. The first seal has been broken and the soul who broke it had already been lost to us.”

“I still don’t understand what it has to do with Dean,” stated Sam, a little bit confused be the talk of ‘seals’.

Castiel turned to face Sam and took a couple of steps closer to him making Sam lean backwards. “Lilith is continuing Azazel’s plan. She’s breaking seals all over the world right as we speak. There are hundreds of seals hidden but she will only need to break sixty six to fulfill the prophecy and the last seal… will free Lucifer from his cage.”

Sam swayed backwards, his eyes glued to Castiel’s pinched expression and his sharp blue eyes that were boring into Sam’s hazel ones. This was so out of left field.

“Now, you see how grave this situation is?” continued Castiel. “I need Dean to stop it. Why don’t you summon your brother’s soul into his body, Sam?”

“I … I’ve tried,” answered Sam haltingly, as he was still trying to grasp the connection between Lucifer getting out of his cage and Dean. “The spell’s altered and incomplete. I’ve got nothing on spell creation…”

Castiel tilted his head again making himself looked ridiculous. He seemed to contemplate something or he might just have been thinking that Sam was an idiot. His expression did not change that much. “But you did bind your souls, right?”

“Yes. I think I did.” Sam didn’t want to say any more than that. No one needed to know about the side effects of the bond much less an angel. “Which is why I tried to summon the cherub who told me about our bond. If you need Dean’s help then help me summon his soul back into his body.”

“I can’t,” answered Castiel quickly. He turned his back to Sam and walked across the room. When he crossed the threshold from the living room, Sam followed him. He seemed to know where he was going because he walked straight into Dean’s room.

“Why?” demanded Sam. “You’re an angel. A fully fledged angel, not a cherub. You’re powerful enough to do it,” insisted Sam. He and the angel now stood face to face just inside Dean’s room.

“Because that’s not why I was sent here. I have to follow orders from heaven. I can’t disobey my orders.” Castiel looked at Dean’s sleeping form on the bed for a few moments and Sam just stood there staring at the angel in frustration feeling his hope diminishing by the second. “But I believe … an act of love could stir even the coldest heart and wayward soul,” said Castiel as if reciting from a passage of a rite. Then, he looked at Sam. “I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t help you much.”

And with that last note, he disappeared. Sam blinked his eyes a couple of times before sweeping his gaze around the room but the angel had truly gone. Sam’s gaze rested on Dean as Castiel’s final words swam around his head.

&&&

_Few days later,_

“Wait, wait, wait … Nora, slow down!” Sam rummaged through piles of papers and books on his table to look for his pen. As soon as he found it, he grabbed a random piece of paper, flipped it over and wrote one handed while his other held his phone to his ear. “Uh huh … yes, I got it.”

_“It was repeated in several other spells. Why would the bonding spell need blood as one of its ingredients in the first place? Because using blood in a spell is considered to make it stronger. Blood is the human life force,” said Nora._

“Okay, so I guess we will use my blood, salt and pearl and protective herbs.”

_“Blood from both of you, Sam. Crushed garnet stone must be added to the salt and pearl powder. I’ve been noticing things from the other binding spells in the scrolls. The temple of Selene was very famous for their fertility and love spells. Their priests always used a binding ceremony to validate marriages. The original Endymion sleeping curse doesn’t have soul binding element because Zeus was the one who did the binding. He rid Endymion of his soul from his body and bound it to Selene’s but your altered Endymion curse put a mark on Dean’s soul, binding it to your own-”_

“So, what we need to do now is actually calling Dean’s soul … through mine?”

_“Yes. Basically.”_

Sam thought about it for a moment before dropping his phone on the table and reaching for the complete transcribed translation of the script. He flipped over the papers to confirm something. There was a passage that kept being repeated throughout the book. ‘An act of love could stir even the coldest heart and wayward soul’. It was the same as Castiel had said before he disappeared on Sam. Sam’s brain was trying to connect the dots between that passage and the constant pull that he felt. Selene was very famous for her countless love affairs, many fell for her charm, no matter if they were gods or humans. There were lots of references in the scripts about sex and bodily fluids as they were used very often in ceremonies or rituals. Could it be?

_“Sam! Are you still there?”_

Sam blinked a couple of times then looking at his abandoned phone on the table. He could hear Nora’s irate voice from it. “Yeah, yeah I am here,” said Sam putting the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, I … I just thought of … Hey, Nora?”

_“Yes…”_

“How soon you can send me the herbs and the crushed garnet stone?”

_“Well, I am out of stock at the moment but I think I can get them to you in three or four days.”_

“Great! Send them to Bobby, please. I think I know what to do,” Sam said quietly. “Yes, talk to you later, Nora.”

Sam thumbed off his phone and leaned back in his chair. He had been in contact with Nora for the past weeks and she had managed to identity the elements that constructed the Endymion Curse. The ingredients used in both original and altered version of the spell were the same. The only different was the use of blood and the additional spell for soul marking and binding.

Nora had sent him the complete list of elements used in other spells, especially the love spells and binding spells. She pointed out a pattern in all of them. The priests of the temple of Selene seemed to be fond of using sex as a catalyst in their ceremonies since they thought human bodily fluids like sweat, blood, semen and urine were the most powerful magical ingredients. They were considered bonding agents. The dancing under the full moon and the orgy were common ceremonies at the time. Sam also thought that Castiel, an angel of the Lord, had pointed out the passage to him on purpose. The passage was not mentioned in both versions of the Endymion curse but it was mentioned several times in the bonding ceremony and fertility rituals.

Perhaps, the constant pull that Sam felt ever since he’d cast the first spell, the one that was getting stronger and stronger each day, was a hint. Sam was just too caught up in his own angst to realize it. Perhaps, he was not supposed to resist it in the first place.

%%%

A week later when full moon high in the dark sky, Sam laid Dean’s body on the porch in front of the house. He did not want to risk doing the ritual outside the protective circle that Bobby had put surrounding the house. Thus, he had to take down the roof above the porch so that the light of the full moon fell on Dean’s naked body, bathed him in its silver glow. Sam had managed to integrate the elements of the binding ritual mentioned in the scripts into the original reversing spell.

The theory was simple. The original reversing spell called out Dean’s soul from Hell, but since there was no binding element in it, Dean’s soul was lost somewhere between the world of spirits and humans. Zeus was the one who did the binding for the original Endymion curse and without it the soul would have been lost and the body would have died. To call a bonded soul Sam needed a new binding ritual. The first spell bound and put a permanent mark on Dean’s soul that anchored it to his own soul which worked like a hook and a beacon so the caster would be able to call the soul back into its body. Thus, the new reversing spell must exercise this connection between the souls so that Sam could call Dean’s soul through his own soul.

After shedding his own clothes, Sam draw a circle of salt, pearl and crushed garnet stone around Dean’s body. Then, he straddled Dean’s waist and put a clay bowl on his stomach. First, Sam sliced his palm and dripped his blood into the bowl before doing the same to Dean’s palm. _His blood, his sweat, his semen._ After mixing both their blood with the herbs in the clay bowl, Sam dipped his fingers into the bowl then wrote Dean’s name on his chest with blood; all the while chanting the spell under his breath. Finishing the spell, he called out Dean’s name three times.

The sharp pull stole his breath, literally. For few seconds, Sam couldn’t breathe as heavy pressure robbed him of precious air making him stumble forward on top of Dean. Sam hovered above Dean; both palms supported his body on either side of Dean’s head. From that point on, things happened in a blur. Details were hazy but what Sam did remember clearly was the overwhelming feeling of hot burning love and desire. Everything that Sam had felt for Dean over the past two years, even the times before that, were accumulated right then and there. There was not any significant change actually. Sure, the physical attraction and sexual desire were a gradual process, but they were there all along, stemmed from years and years of love, trust and devotion from both of them.

The Winchester boys’ childhood was cut off from other people. Uprooted from everywhere they stayed, made dependent to no one but each other. So, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that they ended up together this way.

Sweat gleamed all over Dean’s skin the closer he was to ejaculation as Sam’s right hand worked faster and faster twisting around Dean’s cock. He felt his own orgasm was coming fast and unstoppable. Sam forced his brain to remember the rite as it had to be recited right after they both reached orgasm.

Sam came first, shuddering and trembling on top of Dean, Dean’s name whispered over and over. He looked down the moment he felt the warm and sticky liquid coat his right hand. Moving his hand to cup around the slit, Sam gathered Dean’s semen in his palm. He called out Dean’s name and read the last passage of the spell out loud. As he slammed his right palm down on top of Dean’s chest smearing the semen with the blood and sweat that were already there, a strong windstorm answered him. It was not like the time when Castiel first showed up. The wind seemed to be coming from every direction, blowing around in circle with Sam and Dean at the centre creating the eye of the hurricane.

"Sammy…"

Sam choked on his words. It was in his head, Sam was sure. And not only that, there was another presence too. It was familiar, like finally he’d an answer for all his longing, like coming home from a very long and arduous journey. He felt his soul embraced by this new presence intimately as they blissfully coiled around each other, happily sharing everything that he felt with it. It was Dean, Sam knew. Dean was coming home.

Sam leaned forward to capture Dean’s lips in his, prying them open with his tongue. Warm powerful energy flowed from his chest into his mouth. It transferred from his mouth to Dean’s mouth as Sam’s tongue licked around it.

It was few seconds later, or minutes, or hours, could have been eons that Sam realized that Dean’s lips were moving. He reluctantly leaned back, eyes roaming over Dean’s face. The moon still provided enough illumination that there could be no mistake that there was movement beneath Dean’s closed eyelids. Sam was then granted the most beautiful sight as Dean’s eyes fluttered open.  

 

[ ](http://maaldas.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/1212/5410)

###

Sam fixed a couple of sandwiches in the kitchen for breakfast. It was a wonderful surprise to find out that Dean’s body could function normally after the sleeping curse released its hold on it. Nothing much more than a few sore muscles and cricks here and there, not unlike when one woke up from a deep sleep. Even more surprising was the fact that Dean seemed to accept everything in his stride.

He was disoriented at first, looking at Sam then at his smeared chest with questions in his eyes. Sam quickly ushered him inside the house where it was warm and guided him to the bathroom. Dean seemed to get it once he was there and went under the shower without prompting while Sam used a wet towel to clean himself. Sam made himself busy with fetching his clothes from the porch, getting dressed and preparing Dean’s clothes and putting them on the sink before closing the bathroom door and waiting anxiously outside.

Dean seemed to be taking a very long time to shower. Sam was about to break in to check on him, worried that his brother was going to disappear on him or fall asleep again and this time forever or worse dropped dead. He imagined all of the hundreds of ways the spell could have failed. He hovered and fretted around Dean from the moment he walked out of the bathroom. Dean still looked confused as he tried to make sense of it all. He sat on the end of the bed with eyes downcast. Sam stood agitated in front of him, switching his weight from one leg to the others, willing his brother to raise his head and look at him.

“What happened, Sam?”

It was the most beautiful sound that Sam had ever heard. He had just then realized that Dean hadn’t said a word ever since he’d woken up. Dean raised his head and looked at him in the eyes and Sam couldn’t help but to tell him … not everything but the censored version of everything. But Dean was smart. From the state that he was in when he woke up, Sam was sure that he already knew what Sam had done to wake him up. During Sam’s tale, Dean sat unmoving on the bed listening intently and when Sam’s voice tapered off at the end of his long story, Dean rose up and walked closer to him.

Sam let out a long, deep sigh as Dean’s arms wrapped around him feeling like he had shed all of the burden from his shoulders the moment Dean hugged him. He hugged him back, of course, circling his own long arms around Dean’s back and holding him tight. He was not willing to let him go anytime soon and he was elated that Dean seemed to think the same thing. Sam’s mind was still looping around the thought that Dean was alive and awake and with him.

Dean’s whisper of, “I know, Sam. Whatever you feel, I feel the same,” in Sam’s ear brought an elated feeling to his heart. When he felt Dean’s arms move to hold him tighter, Sam’s heart felt like it would burst from happiness and he could cry. 

It was too soon, Sam thought, when Dean unwounded his arms from around him but then he put his palm on Sam’s cheek. “You know I ought to kick your ass, right?” said Dean in a very serious voice, yet, the fondness in his eyes belied his words. Then, Sam laughed, half sobbing, half laughing as happy tears trailed his cheeks.

“God! You’re such a girl!” exclaimed Dean with mock disgust and it was so very like him that Sam couldn’t have stopped his laughing and crying even if he’d wanted to.

&&&

They spent the next hours reuniting and talking or in Dean’s case catching up on everything that had happened in the supernatural world in the last two years. Dean wandered around the house checking for this and that, noting the salt line and protection symbols. He chided Sam for taking so long to rouse him from sleep and threatened to kick his ass if he tried to curse him again without his knowledge. Sam asked Dean about the time he’d spent in Hell because as far as Sam knew Dean’s soul was in Hell only a week. That was when Sam and Bobby had performed the first version of the reversal spell. Dean said he only vaguely remembered Hell because after he was yanked out of there, he couldn’t remember anything. Most of his memories were wiped out when he was drifting in between planes. He slowly regained them again when he was summoned to the human plane but since the summonings were weak or not properly done, he could only manifest for short periods of time. Each time, the first thing that he remembered was Sam. Sam realized that that was probably the tug that he’d felt.

“How many times were you summoned here?”

“Dunno, Sammy. Lots of times I guess. It’s still vague,” replied Dean, touching his temple. “But I remembered you immediately and tried to get your attention. I think once I came into your dreams or something.” Dean frowned at the half eaten sandwich in his hand. He sat on the couch in Sam’s study with a plate of sandwiches that Sam had fixed for him on his lap while Sam took a seat on his chair in front of Dean, watching as his brother devoured the sandwiches like he was starving. Of course, Sam thought, after sleeping for two years, anyone would be starving.

“So, it was really you!” exclaimed Sam surprised. Dean answered him with a half shrug of his right shoulder.

There was a sound of flapping wings in the room. Before Sam could register what made that kind of sound, Dean had already jumped off the couch sending his empty plate clattering to the wooded floor. “Fuck! Sam, get the demon knife and holy water!”

Sam scrambled off his chair in an instant, thinking that maybe demons had finally managed to break into the house despite the protection sigils. What he saw when he turned around instead was the same shabby coated angel from a week ago. He stood right in the same spot as the first time he popped in.

“Hurry! We must evacuate this town!” said the angel Castiel in an urgent tone.

Realizing that there was no immediate danger, Sam turned to Dean to calm him, “Dean! It’s okay. It’s not a demon!”

“The hell it isn’t! He appeared from thin air! Tell me if that’s not demonic!” cried Dean frantic.

Sam held his brother’s arms to stop his desperate search for weapons. “He’s not a demon because he’s an angel!”

“The fuck?!” The look that Dean sent him telling Sam that Dean thought he was crazy. Sam just realized that he had omitted Castiel’s part in his story but right now was not the time to explain. So, he sent a look at his brother that he would explain later.

Sam turned his attention at the angel. “What? Why should we evacuate?”

“Do you remember what I told you about the seal?”

“Yes!”

“The seal? You mean the one Lilith is trying to break?” Dean chimed in as he remembered what Sam had told him about Lilith’s plan.

Castiel looked at him, blue eyes boring at Dean’s. “Yes, but there are many of them … and now one of her demons has found one of those seals here, in this town.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, mirroring each other’s expressions.

Castiel looked up at the ceiling, listening to something before exclaiming loudly, “Oh, no! We’re too late!” The angel disappeared in a blink of an eye only to reappear again behind the brothers and touched their temples with his fingers.

The next second, they found themselves standing in the middle of a forest with half of its trees burning.

“This is the farthest that I can get you to safety because you need to see the destruction that Lilith caused,” said Castiel.

“What the hell happened here?” asked Dean, eyes wide as he took in the devastated scenery. Sam was shocked. The little town where Sam had spent the last two years in seclusion was burned to the ground. All that remained was the rubble of destroyed houses and smoke billowing from the charred, black wood.

“Demons did this?”  

Sam looked at the angel asking for confirmation but Castiel averted his eyes. That was enough confirmation for Sam. “No, Dean. Demons didn’t do this. Right, Castiel?”

The angel then explained to Sam and Dean about Lilith. About how she was breaking the seals and about how the angels were working hard to fight her. How the angels had received an order to destroy the town if they failed to prevent Lilith getting a hold of a seal. The angels were trying to save the world from the apocalypse.

“This is how you save the world? By killing its people?!” Dean shouted at Castiel.

Sam could understand Dean’s furious indignation. Saving people, hunting things, had always been Dean’s mantra ever since he’d known about the supernatural. If the decision had been in Dean’s hand, Sam was sure that Dean would’ve let the seal be broken rather than sacrificing the whole town.

“You must understand, the seals must be saved or the apocalypse will be among us!” implored the blue eyed angel.

“No! Know what? I don’t think you’re an angel. Angel don’t do this, angels are supposed to help people.”

Suddenly, there were thunderclouds in the sky and Sam could see two shadows of black wings manifest behind Castiel’s back. Dean took a step back and Sam felt really small standing there in the shadow of the enormous wings.

“See, I told you,” whispered Sam from the corner of his lips.

“Shut up!” whispered Dean back.

“I am an Angel of the Lord,” said Castiel with an ice cold tone. “I take orders from heaven and I saved you because we have work for you, Dean Winchester.”

Then, Castiel was gone just as abruptly as he’d come.

Dean frowned. “What a dick!” cursed Dean under his breath. “Come on, Sam! Let’s get out of here!”

Sam took a last look around before following Dean, trudging through the forest alongside him.

“I can’t believe it,” grumbled Dean. “I was gone for two years and you’re hanging out with dicks.”

Sam raised his hands up in exasperation. “It wasn’t like I summoned him, Dean. He just … comes and goes as he pleases.”  

“Yeah, next time he shows up I’ll cut his balls!”

“How d’you know that angels have balls at all?” asked Sam just to be cheeky.

“Shut up, Sam!”

Sam had just sent him a smirk when Dean stopped abruptly reaching out for Sam’s arm. A look of pure horror on his face. “Baby!”

The moment he said it, Sam knew what he meant.

“Sam! You didn’t leave her near the house, right?”

Sam had a fleeting thought to tease him, but Sam loved his hide too much to tease Dean that his beloved Impala was burned down along with the town.

“No, I left it at Bobby’s. There’s something wrong with its engine, I think. Bobby said he’d take a look at it and told me to use his truck instead.”

“Something wrong with its engine? Dude, did you douche up my car?!”

Sam leveled Dean with his patented bitch face, with just cause. “Just be glad I kept it in one piece.”

Dean raised his eyebrow. “Well, that’s rude. I was just asking. What’s got your panties in a twist, Sammy?”

“Oh, come on, you drama queen.” Sam rolled his eyes as he grabbed hold of Dean’s arm to get him to move.

“Hey, man, watch it! I’m not that easy, you know. Just because I let you fuck me doesn’t mean you get to manhandle me anytime you want, Sasquatch!”

“It was the only way to break the curse, you idiot!”

“Still, you’ve got to treat me with respect here, Sam.”

Sam stopped in his tracts to smile at his brother fondly. “I promise I’ll treat you with respect once we get out of this blasted forest, preferably into a room with a bed. You’ll get all my respect then,” he whispered into Dean’s lips.

“Your kissing technique leaves nothing to be desired, Sam. I think I need to teach you how to kiss properly,” smirked Dean before diving into his brother’s mouth.

Castiel, the Angel of Thursday, stood silent and invisible; as he watched the two brothers walk away, bantering with each other. He felt their bond grow stronger than ever before and hoped that nothing would put a wedge between them because even though he did not know their game plan, he was sure that the demons would be trying hard to break the Winchesters apart. To set one brother against the other.

His orders were clear. Protect Dean Winchester for he was the weapon of heaven.

 

 


End file.
